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WALDIMAR. 



A ^IBA^mDlTg) 



IN FIVE ACTS. 



BY JOHN J. BAILEY 



^^OfCONQ^ 



Inivrije, 



SusriCIONES, INIMICITIiE, INDUCWI, ^N.J'PF WA8H\'^?i. '^ 



BELLUiM, PAX RURSus. — Teretice. 



[NOT PUBLISHED.] 



xN E W - Y O R K . — 1 8 3 4 . 



1 



.^^ 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1831, by John J. 
Bailey, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern 
District of New- York. 



Jaugs Van Norden, Printer, 
49 William-street. 



Honourable LEWIS CASS, 



SECRETARY OF WAR, 



Kf^in ZvnQtn^ 



IS INSCRIBKD, 



WITH THE HIGHEST SENTIMENTS OF RESPECT 



FOR HIS CHARACTER 



AS A STATESMAN AND A SCHOLAR, 



ESTEEM FOR HIS PRIVATE WORTH, BY 



THE AUTHOR. 



The Author cannot withhold his acknowledgments to 
Mr. Charles Kean, for his just conception and masterly 
performance of the chief character ; and also to the Per- 
formers of the principal Theatres in New- York and Phila- 
delphia, who gave so much effect to the leading characters 
of the piece. 



DRAMATIS PERSONtE. 



Theodosius, 

Waldimar, 
Claudius, 

RUFUS, . 

Martian, 
Galla, . 
Lucius, . 
Camillus, 
Amyntas, 
Malchus, 
Macro, . 
Hersilia, 

JUSTINA, . 

Nurse, . 

Citizens, 



NEW-YOUK. 

Mr. Thome, . 

" C. Kean, 
" Barry, . . 
" Woodhull, 
" Ritchings, 
« T. Placide, 
" Blakely, 
" Conway, 
" Harvey, 
*' Collet, . 
" Bancker, 
Mrs. Sharpe, 
" Durie, . 



PHILADELPHIA. 

Mr. Mercer. 

« C. Kean. 

" Smith. 

" Rowbotham. 

« Wood. 

« Still. 

" Green. 

" Watson. 

" Whiting. 

" Broad. 

" D. Eberle. 
Mrs. Rowbotham. 

" Roberts. 



Officers, Guards, and Attendants. 



The Scene is laid principally at Thcssalonica, at the close of the 
fourth century, during the reign of Theodosius the Great. The 
Massacre is a historical fact, but the Characters and tlie Plot 
are entirely fictitious. 



PROLOGUE, 

WRITTEN BY ROBERT C. SANDS, ESQ,, 

AND SPOKEN BY MR. BARRY. 



The Tragic Muse, since first her power began 
To rouse to generous warmth the soul of man, 
Her scenes and actors everywhere has found 
In savage wilds, or fable-haunted ground. 
For Art may tame or mould, but cannot change 
The master-passions in their varymg range. 
Wonder and Awe awoke, when first the eyes 
Of the first patriarch saw the earth and skies; 
Love, next in power and order, lit his flame, 
And Fear and Grief, as Guilt's companions, came; 
Hate and Revenge, as Murder's heralds scowled, 
Remorse and mad Despair behind him howled; 
While Pity bent above the wreck deplored, 
And Hope, with rapturous wmg, triumphant soared. 
These, the mind's taskcrs, with their kindred train. 
In every age and clime hold equal reign. 

Our Author's scene is in an ancient day, 
When stormy passions had their wildest play ; 
When Rome's enormous mass of power, o'ergrown, 
Crumbled and quaked beneath a severed throne : 
Each giant fragment, parting from the pile. 
Shook all the world, and left an empire s spoil : 
Each soldier-chieftain, with a monarch's power. 
Usurped the transient homage of the hour; 
And oft, insane with delegated might, 
Perished, like him whose fate we show lo-nighl. 



PROLOGUE. 

Bold is each effort now to please the age 
With dramas worthy of the classic stage ; 
In Fame's high dome the masters sit enthroned, 
Whose spells resistless every passion owned ; 
Who gave to each conception prosperous birth, 
And with immortal music filled the earth. 
While vivid still their images appear, 
While still their numbers linger on the ear, 
But cold attention waits the modern bard, 
Who risks the crowded theatre's award. 

Yet, our New World the muse's pencil needs ; 
What wild adventures, what heroic deeds 
Remain unsung ! what forms, that in the gloom 
Of the long Past magnificently loom, 
Might .re-enact the stories of their time, 
Arouse to virtue, or affright from crime ! 

Would ye behold the native drama rise ? 
To kill the pioneers were most unwise ! 
All is not gained at once. The Genoese, 
Who first explored our now familiar seas, 
Bursting all barriers in his firm intent, 
Found but the isles, and not the continent ! 
A hundred stars had shed prophetic rays. 
Ere Shakspeare's sun obscured them in its blaze ! 

Try, then, our Author's argument and cause. 
By patriot feeling, not by tyrant laws ; 
And let not Justice hold the balance. Mind, 
But poise the scales, determined — to be kind ! 



WALDIMAR. 



ACT FIRST. 

SCENE l.~.The Country. 

Theodosius and Levinus advance in a car, with martial 
music-Train and Attendants follow; they descend- 
UUARDS range around the stage. 

Theodosius. 

Why halt we here ? we have most weighty cause, 
If what these news import be true, to urge 
Our course right onward. 

Levinus. 

Most gracious Prince, 
Were it not better that you throw aside 
Again your royalty, and mingle with 
The citizens, unknown, and thus arrive 
At a more sure conclusion ? 

Theodosius, 

Tiyr r -.i.c i • • . '^^^ ^^^^ counselled. 

My taithful mmister, I will resume 

The simple habits that have screened my state. 

Thus far, Levinus, have we travelled o'er 

2 



10 WALDIMAR. [Act 1. 

Fair Macedon's extended plains, and seen 

Her plenteous fields with yellow harvests crowned. 

Levinus. 

All seems to wear the face of joy, and war. 
That spread his desolating train around, 
Has yielded to the arts of gladsome peace. 

Theodosius. 

And as we came along upon the green, 

Where late the war-blast sounded, there was heard 

The shepherd's reed to lively numbers tuned ; 

This doth delight me more, Levinus, than 

The arch triumphal or victorious car, 

Crowned with the spoils borne off in savage wars. 

Would this fair empire of the east were all 

Thus loyal, flourishing and happy ! — 

Levinus. 

How must it joy thee, Theodosius, when 
In close disguise, apart from all thy train. 
Throwing aside thy dignity and cares. 
Thou boldest converse with thy subjects, nor 
Find'st that ungrateful sight to monarch's eye. 
One heart to base disloyalty inclined. 

Theodosius. 

Yes, 'tis methinks such sights as these, that make 

The weight of royalty sit lighter on 

A monarch's brow ; yet deeply it concerns me, 

Thessalonica thus rebels against 

Our chief's authority. 

Levinus. 

Thou'lt find, report 
Hath wronged him — he is not to blame. 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 11 

Theodosius. 
He is 
Accused of violation of the laws, 
And stern oppression ; we must look to this. 
Come, let us onward — first dismiss our train, 
And then prepare our habits as before. 

[^Exeunt omnes — Flourish. 



SCENE IL— Evening— Moonlight 

A retired part of Waldimar's Gardens. 

Enter Claudius, alone. 

Claudius. 

I see her not ; and yet it is the hour 

We were to meet ; or has my anxious heart, 

Borne on love's wings, deceived me in the count 

Of time, that lags with heavy pace behind ? 

It must be so, for she is wont to steal 

With eager haste to meet her Claudius. 

How formed for contemplation and soft dreams 

Is this fair garden in its loneliness ! 

Where not a sigh doth gentle nature breathe, 

And where the moon in silent majesty 

Looks down from her high throne above the clouds ; 

And, emblem of a power and love divine. 

Beams peace, and light, and harmony around. 

But hark ! the plash of the resounding oar. 

And in the distance the soft echoing horn. 

That sounds along the waters, and the cry 

Of wakeful sentinel fall on the ear. 

And sweetly break the stillness of the night. 



.12 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

Enter Hersiua. 
Hersilia, my love ! 

Hersima. 

My joy, my Claudius ! 
To whose dear name my captive heart responds 
With every chord in tender unison. 
Oh ! love, how long have seem'd the weary hours 
Since last we parted. Ah ! how oft I've sigh'd 
From morning till the shades of evening spread, 
Watching with anxious hope, and still you came not. 

Claudius. 

And do the thoughts of my Hersilia thus 
Dwell on her absent Claudius, and wake 
A longing sigh for those sweet hours to come, 
Devoted to our stolen interviews ? 

Hersilia. 

Why question it, dear Claudius, dost doubt ? 

Claudius. 

O no ! I sought to draw from those dear lips 

A repetition of what so assures 

Thy Claudius that he so well is loved. 

Hersilia. 

Ah ! thus I've spoiled you, when I should have been 
As coy as maidens that are faintly wooed, 
Now frowned, now smiled, as in capricious vein, 
And never lisp'd of aught save friendship's name, 
To fix my chains more firmly 'round your heart. 
Men dearest prize, they say, those joys possessed, 
Which cost most labour in the attainment. 



Scene II. j VVALDIMAR. 13 

Claudius. 

It may be so with all the world beside, 

But ne'er hath been Hersilia half so dear 

As since that hour, when, with a blushing cheek 

And eye of soft retiring modesty, 

She, sinking on my bosom, owned she loved. 

Hersilia. 

Thou art not, Claudius, like other men, 
But art all excellence, and truth, and honour — 
" For valour, piety and form renowned, 
Where'er thy name is sounded — " 

Claudius. 

And thou art 
The model of all loveliness and worth ! 
" Not Idaloea in her favourite grove. 
Where the Loves sported and the Graces shone ; 
Nor Cleopatra, as she sailed along 
The Cydnus, and reflected lustre threw. 
While her fair image hung upon its wave ; 
Nor chaste Lucretia, to her hearth retired, 
Adorned with beauty, softness, constancy, 
And all her sex's virtues, owned such charms, 
So pure, so bright, as thine, my love, appear 
To the enamoured eye of Claudius." 

Hersilia. 

How sweet the sounds that flow from lips we love ! 

I am not worthy of the lavish praise 

Thou dost bestow upon Hersilia, yet 

(I blush to own it) from my Claudius 

These flatteries are most welcome — O how vain 

Is woman's heart ! thou'lt say ; — mine was not so, 



14 VVALDIMAR. [Act I. 

But thou hast caused this weakness, Claudius. 
But why that look desponding on thy brow ? 

Claudius. 

Oh ! when I gaze upon thee, love, and feel 
Thou art so dear, so fond, so beautiful ! 
And that dark fate looks frowning on our union ; 
Nor with a brow less lowering and stern 
Thy father would behold thee thus allied — 
Oh ! it doth sadden me to think on thee ? 

Hersilia. 

Do not despair ! — He will relent in time — 

Claudius. 

No ; that were hopeless, for your father long 
Hath look'd upon me with a jealous eye. 
I once did thwart him in a galling act 
Of dire oppression, and to shield the injured, 
Appealed to Theodosius, and perchance 
He treasures it against me — 

Hersilia. 

Say not so. 
Nor harbour thoughts so harsh against my father. 

Claudius. 

Then, love, ere long war's clarion shall sound, 

And, thus torn from thee, what shall soothe thy heart, 

When I am gone to meet the battle's rage ? 

Hersilia. 

Thou shalt not go ; thou'lt here remain, within 
Thessalonica, to protect her walls — 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 15 

CLAUDirS. 

O no ; Hersilia, honour calls me forth. , 
Would'st have me forfeit what a soldier holds 
Dearer than life, or wealth, or ev'n the peace 
Of the fond bosom of the maid he dotes on ? 
Would'st have me shrink from danger, and remain, 
Reckless of fame and of my country's cause. 
Inglorious lurking 'mid protecting walls. 
The scorn and mockery of all mankind ? 

Hersilia. 

No, no; 'tis I will gird thine armour on, 
Adorn thy crest with plumes of brilliancy, 
Prophetic of thy bright career in arms, 
And send thee forth with honour to the wars. 
Heaven will protect thee, while Hersilia shall 
On bended knee implore its blessings on thee : 
And from each altar through our Christian land 
A grateful country's prayers shall rise on high 
With mine, to bear thee safely to thy home. 

Enter Justeva hastily. 

JUSTEVA. 

My dearest lady ! 

Hersilia. 
What's thine errand, girl ? 

JUSTINA. 

Your father has returned, and may ere long. 
As is his wont when he retires at night. 
Send for you to his presence ; it were best 
That you were in your chamber found, prepared 
To answer to his summons — nay, delay not — 



16 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

Hersilia. 

I come — I come, Justina — 

Claudius. 

Must we part ? 

Hersilia. 

Yes, I must leave thee, Claudius, and oh ! 
Forget not your Hersilia in your dreams, 
For her's are all of thee — farewell ! — 

Claudius. 

Farewell ! 

{^Exeunt sevierally. 

SCENE III.— A Street. 

Enter Lucius, Camillus and Am^nt as, from opposite sides. 

Lucius. 

Well met, my friends. How stand our citizens 
Affected now tow'rd Waldimar, our general ? 

Camillus. 

Awed by the dread of stern authority. 
Sedition's form has shrunk within itself; 
And, like the lurking serpent in its coil, 
Awaits the hour when trampled on, to dart 
It's venom on the state. 

Amyntas. 

And yet, Camillus, 
Would noble Waldimar even now but deign 
By fair conciliation to acquire 
The people's love, doubtless each honest heart 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 17 

Would bound at once to give the proffer welcome. 

Camillus. 

Yes, and awaken thus the slumbering fires 

Of gratitude and admiration, which 

Followed his pathway through the battle's storm, 

When his proud triumphs crowned the mighty wars, 

That made our empire great and glorious. 

Lucius. 

Yet, no well grounded expectation can 

Be formed, that gentleness or prudence e'er 

Should sway a mind like his. I know him well — 

War for his birthright, moulded in the camp. 

Inured to dangers and to savage scenes. 

His soul no touch of generous pity owns, 

Nor ever warms with melting charity. 

If once decision flash upon his mind, 

You could as easily chain down the rock. 

Hurled by the earthquake's fury from its base, 

As shake the purpose of his fixed resolve. 

Amyntas. 

Yet all acknowledge that his public acts 

Are stamped with seeming justice, though at times 

Enforced too sternly, and with too much rigour. 

Lucius. 

'Tis true that ofttimes o'er his counsels reign 
Judgment, and virtue, and his country's good ; 
But wake the angry tyrant in his breast, 
And not the Adriatic in his wrath. 
Nor the wild tempest, that uproots the oak, 
Is more relentless, fierce and terrible. 

3 



18 WALDIMAR. [Act 1. 

Camillus. 

We have much cause to dread that he e'er long 
Will, by his haughty bearing and the tone 
Of power despotic which his tongue holds forth, 
Inflame the public mind to acts of outrage. 

Amyntas. 

And thus call forth our senatorial power 

T' oppose the tyrant, and maintain our rights, 

And guard our citizens' prerogatives. 

Lucius. 

Already at our theatres and games 

Hath clamour's voice been loud, and riot too 

With all its turbulence engendered ; nor 

Ceased the rude fray, till Waldimar sternly called 

The sentinels, who filled each avenue. 

To awe the assembly by the show of arms. 

'Tis this which galls more deeply than the rest. 

And may, which Heaven avert ! bring down hereafter 

A train of wretchedness within our gates. 

But lo ! where Claudius, the gallant youth. 

Approaches. 

Enter Claudius. 

Well, my soldier, how lik'st thou 
This pause inglorious from the toils of war. 
When the once brandished and victorious sword 
Rusts in its scabbard, and the warrior's plume. 
Which erst hung waving 'mid the ranks of death. 
Shines forth a part of love's gay pageantry ? 

Claudius. 

You wrong, my lord, our Macedonian fair, 
Who are not, as I ween, so lightly caught 



Sceno III.] WALDIMAR. 19 

By the gay tinsel of a soldier's garb, 
But estimate the virtties we possess 
The richest plumage, and that most adorns. 

Amyntas. 

Nay, Lucius, you have touched upon a chord 

That vibrates at the heart of Claudius. 

There's some fair maiden, that hath caught his eye — 

Lucius. 

I have observed of late that he, apart 
From social converse with the friends he loved, 
Haunts the lone grove and mountain solitudes, 
Pauses beside each brook that ripples by. 
And 'neath the willow pensively reclines, 
To gaze upon the moon, and with the stars 
To hold communion. 

Camillus. 

I have noted too, 
That he has grown of late far more inclined 
To strict attendance on his General ; 
Doubtless, to learn from his experience 
The art of war — say, is't not so ? 

Amyntas. 

Or is't 
The fair Hersilia, with an eye divine. 
Beaming with azure softness, whence he draws 
The inspiration to heroic deeds ? 

Claudius. 

My worthy friends, spare me, I do intreat you ; 
That I do dwell with admiration on 
Her flowing hair, and form of symmetry. 
And features to that high perfection wrought, 



20 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

Which poets picture in their wildest dreams ; 
And so expressive, that her soul shines forth, 
Like the rich diamond from its native bed, 
Beyond all other gems in worth and lustre — 
That, like ye all, I gaze, admiring, on 
Her virtues and her loveliness, I own ; 
But were she dearer to my heart than life. 
Or to the martyr is the faith he dies for, 
I could not wed the daughter of my chief. 

Lucius. 

And why not, Claudius, for where's the maid. 
With wealth and beauty like Hersilia crowned ? 

Claudius. 

Oh ! 'tis not that, but I am wed to war ; 

And when its fury kindles, death is near, 

Hovers around the soldier's form, and when 

He falls, his dying thoughts are wafted home ; 

And 'tis an agonizing pang to feel 

One leaves behind the wife he loves lamenting — 

" And that ere long her bloom shall fade away. 

And pining melancholy waste her form, 

And sorrow sink her to an early grave !" 

Ye who are fathers, if ye love your child, 

Oh ! let her never share the soldier's fate, 

Nor know its stern vicissitudes — for me, 

I ne'er must hope to wed, howe'er I love, 

'Till from the Adriatic to the banks 

Of the Euphrates, universal peace 

Reigns on a basis fitted to insure 

Our empire's glory and her long repose. 

Lucius. 

Thou talk'st it well, young man, and dost evince 
A feeling that doth truly honour thee — 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 21 

But there's a fascination lurks within 

A woman's eye, when Hghted by a smile 

At one's approach, that gives a silent welcome. 

Warm from the heart, and is an overmatch 

For young philosophy to cope withal. 

But, Claudius, when arrives our emperor 1 

Claudius. 

As 'tis announced, e'er three days more are gone : 

Even now our city seems with zeal intent 

On active preparation, to receive 

Their monarch, as becomes their loyalty. 

Amyntas. 

I trust his presence will conciliate 
Our citizens to Waldimar, and restore 
To Thessalonica her long lost repose. 

Lucius. 

Thou, Claudius, shalt with them more prevail, 
Who art looked upon by all with partial eye, 
And hailed the object of the people's love. 

Claudius. 

To gain their favour, while I could maintain 
True dignity of mind, hath ever been 
The proudest aim of my ambition. 

Camillus. 

Thou hast done well, young man, and dost deserve 
The wreathed honours and the bright rewards, 
With which success in war hath crowned thee. Lo ! 
My friends, the day's declining — let us part — 
Each to his duties, till we meet again 
Within the senate chamber — friends, farewell ! 



S52 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

Claudius. 

Farewell ! — 

[Claudius exit on one side — Senators, on their way 
down the stage, meet Waldimar — they salute 
distantly. 

Enter Waldimar, 'Rufvs following. 

Waldimar. 

Was not that Claudius ? 

RUFUS. 

'Twas he, in conference with the senators. 

Waldimar. 

My sworn and bitter foes — 'tis ever thus : 

He talks me fair, makes earnest protestation 

Of zeal and deep attachment to my person, 

And yet consorts with those that league against me — 

I Uke it not. 

RuFUS. 

Have you good cause to doubt him 1 

Waldimar. 

What would you more ? doth he not practise on them, 
And win men's favours by his courtesies, 
Of which he is so lavish ? 

RuFUS. 

'Tis his nature — 

Waldimar. 

Nay, 'tis an art most cunningly devised, 
To throw me in the shadow, with the glare 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 23 

Of his own virtues in the public eye ; 
Which is so dazzled by their brightness, that 
Men, who on me look cold and frowningly, 
Would almost stoop to kiss the very dust, 
By way of salutation as he passes. 

RUFUS. 

'Twere well to watch him narrowly, if thus 

You do mistrust his friendly carriage towards you. 

Waldimar. 

He wrought me evil with the emperor once, 
Laid bare my plans, and foiled my just revenge ; 
And at my cost and hazard of my fortunes. 
Thus wormed himself into his special favour. 
I do believe him artlul and aspiring, 
And that his views affect my rank and power — 
It galls me — but 'twere well to smother yet, 
By wearing outwardly much show of kindness, 
These strong suspicions that so work on me. 

RuFUS. 

I have been silent long, but now have proofs, 
That change suspicion into certainty ; 
And duty to my master bids me speak. 

Waldimar. 

My faithful Rufus ! 

RuFUS, {showing letters.) 

Here are letters which, 
Just intercepted by a private hand, 
Unveil liis projects, and are pregnant with 
Treacherous intent and mischiefs well devised. 

Waldimar. 

Can this be possible ? 



24 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

RUFUS. 

It purports here 
To inform the emperor, that all our city, 
Roused by your stern, implacable resentments, 
Is on the eve of a dread insurrection ; 
Advising, to maintain the public peace. 
And hold unsullied your proud fame and honour, 
That you be ordered to some distant station, 
Of like distinction, power, emolument. 
And signed by Claudius, Lucius, and the rest. 

Waldimar. 

And thus to pave the way for his advancement — 
The base born recreant ! 'tis a most foul plot. 
Rank villany, that calls aloud for vengeance ! — 

RuFUS. 

Be guarded — 

Waldimar. 

Doubt me not — his treachery 
Shall on himself recoil, and work his ruin. 

RuFUS. 

On strict inquiry from my daughter's nurse, 

I've drawn from her what you have sought to learn 

Touching Hersilia and this Claudius — 



Waldimar. 



Well! 



RuFUS. 

'Tis her opinion, and Pulcheria's, 
There's much of private converse 



passes 'twixt them. 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 25 

WaLDIxMAR. 

Aspire, too, to my daughter ! cross me there ! 

I thought as much. By Heaven ! the man was born 

To mar my every project, and to blast 

Each golden prospect, that my proud desires 

And high ambition had held out to me. 

And yet 'tis well, for it adds fuel to 

The hate I bear him, which, if fortune favour, 

Shall kindle into fires that shall consume him ! 

[Exit — RuFus following, 

" Enter Nurse. 

Nurse. 

Can my old eyes deceive me thus 1 I saw, 
Methought, before me my good master Rufus — 
Master Rufus, master Rufus — I say — 

RuFUS. 

Well, nurse, good nurse, what wilt thou of me now ? 
What dost thou here without thy charge ? 

Nurse. 

I sought you, sir, to urge you come more oft 
To see your daughter than of late your'e wont — 
Believe me, she doth pine for you, and feels 
Impatient ever of your long delays. 

Rufus. 

Should I have leave of absence from the camp. 
Tell thou Pulcheria, I will come to day — 
Bid her prepare her sweetest smiles, to give 
Her fond old father welcome. 



26 WALDIMAR. [Act I. 

Nurse. 

Oh! she is 
A child, of whom a father should be proud. 

Rrrus. 

I'd have thee keep her so, good nurse, and hold 
A watchful care and a strict eye upon her: 
The young require it — thou attend her walks — 
Be her companion every where — 

Nurse. 

I am 

Her very shadow, Master Rufus. 

RUFUS. 

Keep 
These lounging triflers and these gay deceivers, 
With fair outside and all most foul within, 
Away from her : and mark me farther, nurse. 
Let her have no access to public games, 
Those fruitful nurseries of vice and folly ; 
But only recreations chaste and gentle. 
As may befit a maiden's purity. 
Adieu ! good nurse, e'er long I will be with you. 

[Exit. 

Nurse. 

And we shall be right glad to bid you welcome. 

He's been so busy in the camp of late, 

And with our general, Waldimar, who doth hold him 

In most especial favour, that we have 

At home enjoyed but little of his presence— 

There's my young mistress, poor Pulcheria, 

She who could dance and sing the livelong day, 

Now mopes at times most sadly. She's a sweet girl, 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 27 

And that's the truth on't — and T cannot bear 

To see her sad ; and when she is so, then 

I've not the heart, nay, cannot send away 

The young and handsome Martian from her presence. 

I left her with him when I came from home, 

And the girl seemed so happy ! — ay, but then 

My master knows it not ; I am forbid 

To breathe the name of this young charioteer 

Before him. Sure there's something wrong in't ; but 

He's a sweet gentleman, so kind ! 'tis always 

' Nurse, if you please, or as you will, good nurse' — 

And then he makes us laugh in merry mood ; 

I cannot find it in my heart to cross them." 

[Exit. 



END OF ACT FIRST. 



28 WALDIMAR. [Act 11. 

ACT SECOND. 

SCENE I.— A Street. 

RuFUS enters. — {Shouts without — he speaks to d Citizen, 
crossing the stage.) 

RuFUS. 

Can'st tell me, friend, what are those shouts I hear ? 

Citizen. 

The people, with their favourite charioteer, 
Martian, the victor at the public games. 

\^Exit Citizen. 

RuFUS. 

Fy ! fy, upon the fashion of the times. 

That clothes in splendour, and decks out to view 

In all the trappings of triumphant war. 

The pampered minion of applauding crowds, 

'Tis not the fields a man has nobly won, 

Nor the proud name by fearful hazards gained, 

In self devotion or high enterprise ; 

These weigh not with the throng a jot — a feather, 

Thrown by a skilful hand, would turn the scale 

Of popular opinion — why, I've known 

Some mountebank, some shrewd and arrant knave, 

Draw crowds of fools in his admiring train ; 

While real greatness passed unheeded on, 

And shrunk abashed at its own nothingness ! 

Out, out upon't, I'm weary of my kind. 

[Shouts of People ivitliout. 
Martian ! huzza ! most noble charioteer ! 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 29 

RUFUS. 

Ay, there again they come, with loud huzzas, 
And plaudits thunder to the echoing skies, 
And Martian, noble Martian, still the cry ! 
Doth it not stir one's blood, to see these games 
Make women of us all ? we gather round 
These butterflies, these pageants of the day, 
And quite forget the senseless worms they were, 
Ere warmed to life by this same breath of ours 
We waste upon them. 

[^Shouts again in the back scene — the People appeal', 
Martian bowing to the crowd. 

Mark ! the hero comes, 
The people's idol, and no less his own. 
Why, there now, how they hang upon his skirts. 
And fawn and flatter, till the brainless fool 
Would fain affect the 'great one ! 

[Shouts again. 

Martian. 

Most valued friends and citizens of note. 
Who've deigned your admiration for a while 
Upon your humble slave, I modestly 
(As is my nature, as you know full well) 
Disclaim the praises, that so lavishly 
You would bestow upon my poor deservings. 

RuFUS. 

Had he no food but this same modesty. 

Of which he speaks, he'd starve outright I fear. 

[Shouts again. 

First Citizen. 

When wilt thou ride again, most noble Martian ? 
Thou'lt have fair play, we'll warrant thee ; we all 
Will stand by thee. 



30 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Second Citizen. 

We'll stake upon thy head 
The stock of coins, of which we stand possessed, 
Were it a million ! 

Third Citizen. 

Money, I have none — 
But I will back thee, while I've tongue to cheer, 
And hands to spur thee on ! 

Fourth Citizen. 

And I. 

Fifth Citizen. 

And I, 
And all of us, most excellent, good Martian ! 

^ Martian. 

Hold I hold ! good friends, sweet friends, I am but human, 

And though I can bear much, this quite o'erpowers 

My feeble faculties — I do beseech you. 

Leave me to pause awhile — I'll do your bidding ; 

Perhaps to-morrow, I shall hold again 

The flowing rein ; now curb the mettled steed, 

Now spur the bounding courser o'er the ground. 

Urge the proud chariot, and at every turn. 

Where dangers threaten, with unerring hand 

In safety guide her, till she end the race 

Triumphant ! Now, away ! you may rely on me. 

Citizens. 

Huzza for Martian ! victor of the course — 
Right noble Mar' ian, excellent Martian ! 
Huzza ! huzza ! 

f Exeunt Citizens. 



Scene I.] 



WALDIMAR. ^1 



Martian comes forward with Galla — sees Rufus. 
Martian, {aside to Galla.) 

Ha I Rufus here, the very last of men 

I would have met— he hates me for my liking 

To his fair daughter. 

Galla. 
She, of whom you told me 1 

Martian. 

Ay. — In the flush of triumph and of wine, 
With oaths, and sighs, and countless promises, 
I came, and working on her artless nature. 
And on her old confiding nurse, she sunk 
An unresisting victim in my arms ! 
'Twas in his absence at the camp. 

Galla. 

Avoid him ! 

Martian. 

No, meet me here anon— I will accost him, 

As though no chance had crossed between us— wear 

A bold and reckless front and a gay humour. 

To ward suspicion off. [^^'^'^ Galla. 

I must approach him. 
This popularity's a thriving trade, {To Rufus.) 
What think you on't, my friend ? 

Rufus. 

Friend ! say you ? 
'Twere well you have not many such; you'd chance 
To find them troublesome. 



3a WALDIMAR. [Act 11. 

Martian. 

Ha ! is it you ? 
Most noble veteran, most worthy Rufus — 
By my renown, I honour thee, and hold 
Myself in special fortune thus to meet thee. 

Rufus. 

Thou hast the advantage of me, for in my esteem 
I hold the pleasure just about as cheap 
As the proud honour that you deign me ; or, 
In phrase less varnished, sir, I like your praise 
As little as your company. 

Martian. 

Indeed ! 
The fellow's jealous of my rising fortunes. {Aside.) 
Egad ! I'll humour him, and play him off 
In his own coin. Sneer on, old cynic, 'tis 
Thy nature — 

Rufus. 

As 'tis thine to make thy folly food for't. 

Martian. 

Thou speak'st me bluntly; I must use thy roughness. 
To give a keener edge in our encounters. 
To every shaft of wit I aim at thee. 

Rufus. 

Thou'rt wise, thou'lt need it — but I fear me, sir, 
My roughness cannot sharpen wit of thine. 

Martian. 

And why not, pray sir, sharpen wit of mine ? 



Scene I.] 



WALDIMAR. 33 



RUFUS. 

'Tis of too leaden quality for that — 

Tug ne'er so hard at it, I'll warrant ye, 

'Twill get no edge by grinding. Fellow, thy wit's 

All empty sound, without or sense or humour ; 

Nought but the buzzing of an angry drone, 

Which has the malice, not the power to sting. 

Martian. 

"Nought though it be, it would at least weigh down 
The stock of your good humour, though you throw 
The scanty grains of your good breeding in 
The scale along with it. 

RuFUS. 

All courtesy would be but wasted on 

A thing like thee, of no respect or value. 

Good breeding, quotha ? why, to thee 'twould seem 

Like some quaint fashioned garb about thy back, 

Fit thee as well, thou'dst be as much at ease in't. 

As to good humour, about with which you prate, 

Where'er you come, you are yourself its antidote." ^ 

Martian. 

Why, Rufus, what a snarling dolt art thou, 

To cross my path at such an hour as this. 

When pleasure lights the torch, and triumph sheds 

Its blaze of splendour round me. Know'st thou, churl, 

Who won the race, when fleetest chariots vied 

In glorious rivalry ? 

Rufus. 

I give little heed 
To matters of such import. 

5 



34 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Martian. 

'Twas I, 'twas I ! 
Hast thou no soul, that thou canst be unmoved 
At glorious sports like these ? even now 1 sec 
Come forth the noble charioteers, arrayed 
In red, white, green, and azure, like the sky, 
The eye of beauty dazzled by their hue ! 
And now, with eager hopes and proud desires, 
Exulting, lo ! the youthful daring band 
Start to the race, and fiercely seize the reins ! 
Onward they rush ; a thousand voices hail 
The alternate victor, as he speeds along ; 
Ten thousand eyes pursue the chariot's flight. 
And as they gaze, as many thousand souls 
Swell in their bosoms, and almost leap out — 

RUFUS. 

The greater fools, say I, to be so moved. 

Martian. 

Then comes the glorious moment, when the goal 
Is almost reached — they goad the foremost steeds, 
Lashing with all their might upon their flanks ; 
The golden chariot glitters in the course. 
And swifter than the wind is borne along — 
And now the victor, like a flash of light. 
Bursts on the view, and hails the loud acclaim, 
While lenghtening shouts of triumph rend the air ! 
One moment proud as this, my churlish friend, 
Is worth the glories of a whole campaign ! 
Say, is it not ? 

RuFUS. 

Perchance, to those who like it ; 
I cannot say it takes my fancy greatly. 



Scene I.] ^ WALDIMAR. 35 

Martiax. 
Then condescend, I beg, most gracious sir. 
To state wherein it jumps not with your humour. 

RUFUS. 

Why, it breeds idle drones about the state, 
Who swell like you into a brief importance, 
Strutting it proudly at the people's cost ; 
On whom ye serve as leeches, to suck out 
Their very life-blood. 

Martiax. 

What ! their life-blood ! 

RuFUS. 

Ay! 
What have they left, I ask, when such as you 
Drain them of virtue, while you filch their purses ; 
Making at once both knaves and beggars of them ? 

Martian. 

I'll not deny wc make a thriving trade on't. 
With equal wit and truth old Juvenal saith, 
' A charioteer could buy a hundred lawyers.' 
He might have added, just as many soldiers, 
As one could well make count withal. 

RuFUS. 

Ye are 

Most vile examples to the giddy throng. 

Weak like yourselves, and prone to mimic you — 

In short, ye are, with all your outward bravery, 

Right pestilential fellows, and wer't mine 

To govern here, I'd give thee to the hangman — 

Though he, perchance, might scorn to do the office. 



86 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Martian. 

Now could I smite him with a right good will — 
But I forbear, there yet may come the time ! (Aside.) 
Nay, nay, dismiss this angry war of words, 
And let's to pastime, be it what thou wilt. 

RUFUS. 

Buzz ! buzz ! I am weary of you, leave me ! 

Martian. 

Leave thee ! no, no, I like thy humour well — 
Name but the sportive toil, I'll match with you — 
Wil't pitch the quoit, or dart the javelin with me ? 
Come, rouse thee, man, I'm ripe for any thing 
That looks like sport. 

RuFUS. 

I share no pastime with thee. 
Thou art far fitter to contend with women, 
Than with my rougher nature come in contact — 
Beware ! beware ! there's something dangerous in't ! 

Martian. 

Why, I could foil thee, man, at thy own weapon. 
Were I but so inclined — come on, wilt try me ? 
I know no equal in the art of fence. 

RuFUS. 

I'd scorn to stoop to such an arm as thine. 

Martian. 

Be not too rash — you yet may feel its power. 

RuFUS. 

I must be caught asleep then. 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 37 

Martian. 

Have a care ! 
These taunts may go too far — and there are times, 
When I do wear a sword. 

RUFTJS. 

Ha! say you so? 
Then know that I despise you from my soul. 
They tell me that you vaunt of your success 
With yielding fair ones, and do make your boast 
Of favours granted, and of hearts betrayed. 

Martian. 

I've seen some service, I will not deny. 
In that bright sphere of enterprise. 



RUFUS. 



It is 



A lie, a downright arrant lie, as are 

The whole of thy pretensions. Thou would'st stab 

The reputation of half womankind, 

To bolster up thy brainless vanity. 

Martian. 

Be not too sure. 

RuFUS. 

What woman could be found 
To lavish favours on one base like thee ? 
Why, I would spurn a child of mine, if she 
Could deign to listen to thee. 

Martian. 

Thou'st a dauf^hter — 



38 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

RUFUS. 

Well, and what of her ? 

Martian. 

The fair Pulcheria ! 

RuFUS. 

Why ring the changes thus upon her name ? 

Martian. 

Perhaps — 'tis barely possible — she might 
Regard me with more partial eye, than does 
Her fond, deceiv'd, and unsuspecting father ! 

(With emphatic ?nea7iing.) 

RuFUS. 

Another word, a bare surmise like that — 

Martian. 

Go, hie thee home ; look to her well, I say — 
I trust thou'It find her honest to thy wish. 

RuFUS. 

There is some deadly meaning to thy words. 
Speak out ! nor, villain, rack my bosom thus ! 
Oh ! agony ! thou wilt not ! [Martian laughs tauntingly. 

Off from me ! 

[Dashi7ig him off with furr/. 
Away ! Now to my child, to know the worst ! \_Exit. 

Martian. 

A blow ! a blow ! villain ! thou diest for it — 
Be thou within my reach, or wake or sleeping. 
At blaze of noon, or in the dark, alone 
Or 'mid thy bands, Rufus, thou'st roused my hate, 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 39 

And thou shall die for it ! O that I had 
A sword! 

Enter Galla. 

Galla. 
A sword ! 

Martian. 

Ha ! Galla ! give me thine. 

Galla. 

How now, my friend, what works upon you thus ? 

Martian. 

I've had a blow, a most vile blow, from that 
Old hoary headed traitor, Rufus, that 
Vile tool of Waldimar. 

Galla. 
A blow? 

Martian. 

Nor that alone, 
But angry taunts, and gross and deadly insults, 
That chafe and goad beyond endurance ; I, 
Thank Heaven for it ! have revenge at hand — 
Revenge, that stabs him where his nature least 
Can bear to suffer. 

Galla. 

' In his daughter ? 

Martian. 



I glory in the act that made her vile, 
As it heaps curses on her father's head ! 



Ay- 



40 WALDIMAR. [Act If. 



Galla. 

Yet must we not forget, in private wrongs, 
There are more tyrants in the land to bleed — 
Remember Waldimar ! — 

Martian. 

Ay, fear me not — 
I am worked up to any act of daring. 

Galla. 

He hates you for the love the people bear you, 
And doth suspect you've wrought upon their minds. 
And fann'd the flame of discord. 

Martian. 

And they are 
Ripe for revolt, as his worst enemy 
Could wish them. 

Galla. 

Martian, you're marked out. 
At fitting opportunity, the victim, 
To awe the people, and appease his rage. 

Martian. 

Well, then we'll labour to ward off the blow ; — 
He'll find that Martian, trifler though he deem him, 
Can be a wily and a dangerous foe ! 

[Exeunt. 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 41 

SCENE 11.— Hall of the Citadel 
Enter Waldijiar, speaking to a Soldier, 

Waldimar. 

And art thou sure of this ? 

Soldier. 

I am, my lord, 
Most certain that 'twas he. 

Waldimar. 

At night, say you ? 

Soldier. 

It was at night — 

Waldimar. 

And was the hour so late I 

Soldier. 

It was, my lord, when all our city slept — 
And I before have seen him wandering there, 
And heard some softer voice with his discoursing. 

Waldimar. 
Thou should'st not have concealed this from me. 

Soldier. 
'Twas that I hate the office of informer. 

Waldimar. 

Well, you may leave me — I'd be private here. 

[Exit Soldier. 
Who waits there? 

6 



42 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Enter Macro. 
Macro, to my daughter straight, 
And bid her here attend me. [Exit Macro. 

There is need 
That I acquaint her with my late design, 
To raise her fortunes and advance my own ; 
And if, as the late news I've heard portends, 
(Which this my honest soldier here confirms,) 
She cling with fondness to this Claudius, 
I'll tear the rooted passion from her breast, 
Though it should crack her heartstrings ; — for this thing. 
Which boys call love, but which experience, 
Grafted on wisdom, in the deeper school. 
Where human nature doth unfold her page 
To true philosophy, deems but a toy, 
Is a mere bubble, which, thrown in the sun 
Of wild romance, delights the child awhile. 
Then bursts to airy nothings. But the mind, 
That looks on life with cool ambition's eye, 
And with that dignity that soars beyond 
Such idle fantasies, makes that the tool, 
By which it plays upon the weak, and moulds 
The unwary to its purpose. " Now, though I 
Have not the smoothest temper, when 'tis roused ; 
And passion oft within me overleaps 
The bounds of reason and humanity — 
Yet ne'er a hermit in his cave, austere. 
Whose blood is chilled by vigil, fast and gloom, 
Nor the cold clay, till with promethean fires 
'Twas kindled into animation, owned 
A bosom steeled against love more than mine 
Hath ever been, since first I did attain 
To thought and manhood." — But Hersilia comes, 
And I will speak her with all gentleness, 
To learn the tenor of the maiden's thoughts. 



Scene 11.] WALDIMAR. 43 

Enter Hersilia. 

How far'st thou, daughter ? — let me look at thee — 
Thou seem'st as gay as fancy's glowing dream. 
And, by this light, methinks, as lovely too. 

Hersilia. 

I'm well, dear father, and much pleased to view 
Your brow relax from sternness and from care, 
And wear this cheerful aspect, for of late 
No smile like pleasure have your features worn, 
Or look of kindness to your fond, fond child ! 

Waldimar. 

You do mistake me, girl, when thus you chide 
Your father for unkindness, which he ne'er 
Could cherish toward the daughter of his love. 
And her, in whom are centered all his pride 
And expectation of aggrandizement. 

Hersilia. 

I fear my father with a partial eye 
Regards my qualities, and mocks me, while 
He thus suggests that I could add in aught 
Unto his greatness. 

Waldimar. 

I do not flatter thee. 
Dost love me, girl ? {Strongly) 

Hersilia. 
Love thee, mv father ? 



44 WALDIMAR. [Act U 

Waldimar. 

Ay! 

Dost love me, girl ? nay, start not at my words ! 

I do believe thou dost — indeed I do : 

Were it not so, 'twere most unnatm-al — 

For thou had'st scarcely lisped a mother's name, 

Ere, dying, she resigned thee to my care ; 

And thou'dst no kindred left but me to love ; 

And I — I have not been an unkind father ! 

Hersilia. 

No, no, indeed you have not ; even when 
You sternly looked on others, you have been 
All tenderness to me, and ever were 
Father, mother, all, to your Hersilia, 

Waldimar. 

" Then hear me now again declare, Hersilia, 

Thou art at once, my pride, and source of greatness." 

I do not flatter thee — for I would be 

The proudest subject at the imperial throne 

Of our great Theodosius, and the power 

Of raising me to that exalted height. 

For which my soul with panting ardour burns. 

Will soon be thine ! 

Hersilia. 

Indeed ! my father ! 

Waldimar. 

Ay! 

And, mark me, here the parent will not claim 

(" Though, if he did, the daughter would be bound 

By every tie to yield obedience") 

A single sacrifice of inclination, 

Of woman's rights, her pride or dignity ; 



Scene 11. ] WALDIMAR. 45 

But thy proud name should soar as far above 
The matrons that our palaces adorn, 
As is their rank above our peasantry. 
Enthroned in majesty, where all beneath 
Stood bowing at your footstool, you might sway 
The heart that lorded over millions ; there. 
War should throw down his spoils, and at thy feet 
Display his golden treasury — the strain 
Of genius by your youthful beauties fired, 
Should waft the name of my Hersilia down, 
For future ages to admire and love. 

Hersilia. 

How means my father that I should ascend 
To this so dizzy elevation? 

Waldimar. 

Thus— 
" For years," the same Levinus, who presides 
Over the counsels of our emperor, 
" And forms at once the pillar and the pride 
Of all our ministerial cabinet. 
Hath been" thy father's firm, devoted friend, 
*' And owes a debt of gratitude to me, 
For building up his fortunes ; which to pay, 
As well as throw into his scale of power 
More sure preponderance, (and perchance the last 
May be the weightier motive of the two,) 
He" hath beset the ear of young Arcadius, 
The eldest son of Theodosius, with 
The praises of thy budding beauties, till 
The bosom of the captive youth's on fire 
With eager expectation to behold thee. 

Hersilia. 

And comes he with his father then? 



46 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Waldimar. 

He does — ' 
And on the night, when Theodosius first 
Gives audience here, thou'lt meet him. 

Hersilia. 

Oh ! my swelling heart ! {Aside.) 

Waldimar. 

And see that you neglect not to adorn 
Your person with exceeding care, and let 
Those jewels shine in clusters on your brow, 
Bedeck your hair and glitter on your arm, 
Which late I gave you ; these are gewgaws, which 
Attract a boyish eye, and serve to give 
New lustre to your beauty, and will lead 
Men's minds to estimate the dowry, which 
A father's fondness doth design thee, girl. 
There's much in this — see you neglect it not. 

Hersilia. 

I shall, sir, ever study to obey you ; 

But oh ! there is no charm in this, to one 

Bred in retirement from her infancy ; 

And taught to count those only real joys. 

Which spring from nature ; " whether 'tis survey'd 

By the admiring eye that roams abroad ; 

Or by the mind that revels o'er the page. 

Where genius has arrayed it in the garb 

Of sweet simplicity and loveliness — " 

To one with taste thus formed, the stately pomp 

And heartless grandeur that attend a court. 

With all its noisy bustle, seem but as 

Deluding mockeries, formed to cheat the eye, 

But never touch the heart. 



Scene II.] VVALDIMAR. 47 

Waldibiar. 

Ha ! have a care ! 
This is the coinage of an idle fancy — 
Some hair-brained folly ; thou wilt anger me ! 

Hersilia. 

" I speak, my father, as resistless nature 
Works on my heart. 

Waldimar. 

Resistless nature, girl ! (Angrily.) 
'Tis but the cloak in which vice wraps its form, 
When gray beards play the wanton or the fool — 
In which the frail one, conscience lulled, may hide 
The burning blushes of her shame, when lost 
The jewel that adorns her. This cant phrase 
Is the sure refuge of the guilty mind, 
When grasping Av'rice, and foul Calumny, 
And mad Ambition goad to acts of crime — 
While Murder stalks remorseless to destroy, 
And Hate vindictive darts his glaring eye, 
And monster breeding Jealousy is racked, 
Thirsting for vengeance ! — all, all will tell ye, 
Ay, and convince themselves, they're not in fault, 
They did but as resistless nature urged — 

Hersilia. 

O, rather say that 'tis the sacred seal. 

By which the hand of Heaven stamps the soul, 

To mark it for a blessing or a curse, 

When its expanding powers shall leave the bud,^ 

And burst to action. 

Waluisiar. 

But what should'st think of it, 



48 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

If it should drown remorse, when daughters' hearts 

Are steeled against their fathers, and rebel ?" 

No more of this, Hersilia — answer me ! 

Should this young prince bow down to thee, and ask 

Thy plighted hand 1 — 

Hersilia. 

O, name it not, in mercy — 
My father, name it not, if still you hold 
In value aught your daughter's peace of mind. 
I would not thwart your wishes, but I ne'er — 

Waldimar. 

Nay, hold ! dear daughter, do not thou be rash. 
And speak before thou hast reflected well. {With smothered 

rage.) 
Hersilia. 

It needs no farther thought ; I am prepared 
To say my heart revolts against this marriage. 
And that I must not — cannot — 

Waldimar. 

Hold ! hold ! thou canst not be so dead to pride, 
To what will make thee glorious, and make 
Thy father great and happy ! It is not 
To withered age I'd wed thee, no, nor yet 
To vile deformity, or mind of dark 
Malignant hue, to barter thus my child 
For royalty and wretchedness ; but 'tis 
To one with every outward grace adorned, 
Whom thousands sigh for — nay, thou mean'st it not, 
And wilt not spurn a father's wishes so. 

Hersilia. 

Were worlds my own, and were you suing thus, 
I would resign them, were I left as poor 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 49 

As wretched, houseless, tatter'd beggary ; 
Or were this Hfe to be laid down for yours, 
How would I hasten to my doom ! — ^but oh ! 
I cannot, dare not, wed Arcadius ! 

Waldimar. 

What do I hear ? not wed him ! not the man 

Whom I, thy father, do command thee, girl ! 

How ! not wed him ! By high Heaven ! thou shalt, 

If I first see thee in a dungeon thrown, 

And the damp air blight all thy virgin bloom, 

And sorrow canker e'en thy very heart. 

Till it has worn away this stubbornness. 

Hersilia. 

Have mercy. Heaven ! or I shall sink beneath 

That look so dreadful, that my nature shrinks 

Appalled to gaze on him ! My father, hear me ! 

O hear the voice of thy once darling child. 

And do not drive me mad ; for thou dost fill 

My soul with bitterness, to see thee thus — 

Think how I've loved you, through long years gone by ; 

With what devotion, and how dutiful ! 

Waldimar. 

O yes ! how dutiful ! ay, very dutiful ! (With strong irony.) 
Thou art all filial tenderness, and art 
A very mirror of fair piety ! 
Thou wouldst not thwart a father in his aim 
To crush his enemies, and laugh to scorn 
Their malice and their power ; nor yet art thou 
That most degenerate daughter, who would plant 
Pangs in a father's heart, and dash his hopes, 
When he would raise thee to the rank of kings ! 
And with a wasted fondness close allied 
To dotage, plan thy happiness ; nor art 

7 



50 WALDIMAR. [Act II. 

Thou she, who would sit calmly by, and see 

A father in his aged years bowed down 

With disappointment, which herself has sown — 

no I thou art Hersilia, my fond daughter, 

My child, who lov'st a doting father more ! (Bitterly.) 

Hersilia. 

Oh ! misery ! thou'lt break my heart ! oh ! oh ! (Sobbiiig.) 

Waldimar. 

♦* Nay, wring not so your hands, nor whine it thus ; 

1 heed it not, for thou hast angered me. 

And thrown my towering projects to the dust. 

Whereon I'd set the longings of my soul." 

But I well know the source, from whence proceeds 

This act of disobedience — it is not 

For nought, thou pattern of propriety, 

Thou meetest in the dark and silent night, 

Stealing like guilt to its protecting shades, 

The man thou know'st I hate — whom not long since^ 

With stern command, I bade thee see no more. 

Hersilia. 

And knows he all ? — then I am lost indeed ! (Aside.^ 

Waldimar. 

A very foundling, sprung from out the loins- 

Of some base hind, and but for charity, 

Wliich reared the bantling, he had sculked in rags, 

Within his native hovel, to this hour ! 

But, mark me well, Hersilia, if at once 

Thou dost not quit this Claudius, and drive 

All thought of him from out thy bosom, thou 

Wilt rue the day when thou and he were born, 

" Or dared to wake my vengeance." To your chambei' 

Retire ! and, girl, remember that I leave 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 51 

One day for thy reflection, and no more — 
You know me firm — remember, and be wise ! 

[Exit Hersilia. 

Enter Soldier. 

Soldier. 
Rufus, my Lord, in haste demands admittance. 

Waldimar. 

Bid him begone ! I cannot see him now. 

Soldier. 

He will not be refused — he presses on 

With fierce impatience — and behold him here ! 

[Exit Soldier. 

Enter Rufus, hastily, with Soldiers, who stand hack. 

Waldimar. 

Rufus ! why rudely thus ? — 

Rufus. 

Nay, I beseech you, 
Chide me not now, I cannot bear it — 

Waldimar. , 

How ! {Angrily, and then seeing his agitation.) 
What is it shakes thy rugged nature thus ? 

Rufus. 

I came to tell thee — but I cannot speak — 
O Waldimar ! this old, old heart is bursting ! 

Waldimar. 

Rufus, speak out, and ease thy tortured breast ! 



52 WALDIMAR. [Act II 

RUFUS. 

I've been abused most grossly, and all hell 
In league against me, could not well contrive 
More damning ruin — my daughter ! — 

Waldimar, 

Is she dead ? 

RuFUS, 

Would she had died a thousand deaths, before 
This foul disgrace had reached us ! — no ! she lives ! 
And Martian, that fiend in human shape — 



Waldimar. 



Martian ! 



RuFUS. 

O that this heart were not too full to curse him ! 
He stole into her confidence, and, seizing 
Advantage of an all unguarded moment, 
By his accursed arts, he wrought his purpose ! — 

(Covers his face with his hands.) 

Waldimar. 

My worthy Rufus ! I do share thy anguish — 
But where's the villain ? 

Rufus. 

Ah ! He's fled— he's fled ! 

Waldimar. 

Tiien give the alarm, and let the troops disperse ; 
Rush to eacii road and avenue that lead 
From out the citv— 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 53 

RUFUS. 

Be the duty mine 
To urge them on, and guide the hot pursuit ! 

[Exit RuFUS. 

{As the Soldiers are following Rufus) — 

Waldimar. 

Hold ! hold ! I say — the man of you who dares 
To deal out death to him, and rob me of 
The slow and deadly tortures that I doom iiim, 
Shall pay most dearly for it — haste, and on ! — 

[Exeunt. 



END OF ACT SECOND. 



54 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

ACT THIRD. 

SCENE I.— Hall of the Citadel. 

Enter Waldimar, and Claudius. 

Waldimar. 

Have yet no news arrived of those, v^ho were 
Despatched v^rith Rufus to o'ertake this Martian ? 

Claudius. 

No certain tidings have yet reached our ears ; 
Yet if the voice of busy rumour claim 
Aught of attention, we have hopes, that ere 
The day has sunk beneath yon mountain height, 
He will be here in chains. 

Waldimar. 

Ha! say you so/ 

Claudius. 

'Tis spread (but whence proceeds the tale's unknown) 

That 'mid the dark recesses of the woods, 

" O'ergrown with briars, and embowered with shade 

So deep, that scarce a beam of the fair sun 

Hath ever lighted on their solitude," 

The wretch had lurked for safety ; there pent up 

The injured Rufus found him. 

Waldimar. 

Brave, brave news ! 
And nobly dealt it home to him ! Proceed ! — 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 55 

Claudius. 

Wild with alarm, to desperation urged, 
He burst on his pursuers, and despair 
Nerved him with powers unnatural — awhile, 
They tugged in fierce encounter : Rufus then 
Fastened with deadly gripe about his throat — 

Waldimar. 

That struggle was his last ! go on ! 

Claudius. 

It were, 
But for the dagger, which from out his breast, 
The villain grasped convulsively, and pierced 
Our Rufus to the heart. 

Waldimar. 

Ha ! {Greatly moved.) 

Claudius. 

Martian then, 
Faint and exhausted with the unequal fight, 
And somewhat wounded, and with soul subdued, 
Lay senseless on the ground, and rumour says, 
Is hither borne, to wait your just decree. 

Waldimar. 

O that 'twere true, and that the wretch's limbs. 
Thrown forth to glut the raging beasts, were torn 
To piecemeal, at our public games, "and there 
Suffered the vengeance due for Rufus slain !" — 
Or that these eyes could gaze, where prostrate he, 
With tortured limb, and look of agony. 
Upon the rack lay groaning ! 



56 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

Claudius. 

Waldimar, 
Suspend this storm of anger for awhile ; 
Ere long thou'lt have him in thy power — and then 
Let it burst forth on his devoted head, 
And hurl him to destruction ! [Bustle without 

Waldimar. 

What noise is that ? 
Go, Claudius, and learn, if aught has yet 
Been heard, confirming what this tale imports. 

[Exit Claudius. 

Waldimar* 

Vile slave ! who, by a devilish lust urged on, 

Set at defiance every human law, 

And trampled on that virtue all revere ! 

By Heaven ! thou'lt rue the act, when thou didst dare 

To storm the sacred guards that fence around 

The virgin's honour, and to offer thus 

Foul violation to her spotless form ! 

O shame ! that in a Roman city — 

Re-enter Claudius. 

Well, 

What news? 

Claudius. 

The criminal stands without, and I 
Have come to speak, and make your pleasure known. 
Touching his right disposal — 'tis too true, 
That by his hand the gallant Rufus fell. 

Waldimar. 

Then with my orders speed at once, and bear 
The victim to his fate — nav. no more words ! 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 57 

Claudius. 

My Lord, " I've known thee from my earliest years — 
Bred in one camp, united in one cause, 
We've braved tiie dangers of the tented field ; 
And the same battles gave thy name renow^n, 
Which threv^r the laurel o'er my youthful brow. 
O, ne'er could hours of joy and revelry. 
So closely link thee to my heart, as have 
The glories, which our arms together won. 

Waldimar. 
What means my fellow soldier by this preface ? 

Claudius. 

Thus every triumph formed a stronger tie, 
And every suffering we together knew. 
Where shone thy stern, unbending dignity, 
Endeared thee to me more^-0 that thou would'st 
Away with these suspicions, that so wrong me ! 

Waldimar. 

To the point at which you aim — 

Claudius. 

And now" I cannot 
Stand silent or unmoved, when thus thou dost 
Endanger life, and rank, and power and all. 
For paltry vengeance, on a dastard slave ! 

Waldimar. 

How then, Claudius, should I endanger 
Aught, by strict justice on an act of crime ? 

Claudius. 

I'll tell tli^e— when the criminal arrived, 

8 



58 WALDIMAR. [Act Hi. 

I heard it whispered in the crowd, that tliou, 

Urged by revenge, hadst doomed to worse than death, 

To tortures subtle, dire and lingering. 

One who at every course had borne the palm, 

When the fleet chariots in contention vied, 

And won the people's honours and their love. 

Waldimar. 

And do they dare rebel against our power ? 

Claudius. 

Sedition's murmurs filled the air, and on 
Each brow were seated discontent and gloom ; 
And here and there a dark vindictive eye 
Shone with an aspect stern and threatening. 

Waldimar ! reflect, a m.oment pause, 
Ere you offend the assembled multitude, 
Who love this skilful charioteer, and cherish 
A boundless passion for the public games ; 
Which Theodosius, with imperial bounty. 

Hath crowned with splendours equal to his throne. 

Waldimar. 

What ! wouldst thou have me bid the wretch to live, 
Stained with offence so deep and damning ? say ! 
Shall justice sleep, and just revenge be hushed, 
And villary stalk forth at noonday in 
Our very streets, "and burst through every bond 
That links the social chain," and give, unawed. 
Alike defiance to our laws and power? 

Claudius. 

1 would advise, that you suspend awhile 
His sentence, and with watchful eye observe. 
How stand the people in his cause disposed. 

[^Shouts without. 
Hark ! Waldimar, the clamorous shout again ! 



Sceu<^ I.j WALDIMAR. ^'^ 

Waldimar, 

The people — let them rave, I heed it not. 
Shall the mere dread of popular resentment, 
" The transient fury of a lawless mob, 
Which vents its rage in idle impotence," 
Bid the firm soldier from his duty shrink, 
And stay the hand of justice from its doom ? 

Claudius. 

Hear me ! I do intreat, one moment, hear ! 

Waldimar. 

Shall it be said, that he, to whom our prince, 
The mighty Theodosius, did intrust 
To guard our city's ramparts, " and protect 
From foreign foes her monuments and wealth. 
And order and fair justice to maintain 
Within her walls — shall it be said, that he," 
Shrunk, like a coward, from the fickle blast 
Of popular commotion ? 

[Martian led in bound, GaiAjX following. 

Claudius. 
Here he comes. [Martian kneels to Waldimar. 

Martian. 

My Lord ! my Lord ! a guilty wretch I am — 
I've done deep wrong, beyond the reach of pardon ; 
But O be great, be merciful, and spare me ! 

[Grasping his robe. 

Waldimar. 

Off, monster ! there's pollution in thy touch. {To the Guards.) 
Lead him to instant torture — let him pay, 
By shameful death, the forfeit of his crimes ! — 



60 WALDIMAR. [Act 111. 

Let not the executioner preserve 

His body from one pang within the power 

Of his dread art to inflict — away with him ! 

[Exeunt Waldimar and Claudius. 

Gall A comes forward. 

Martian. 

Galla ! thou'st heard my sentence — shame, O shame ! 
Upon these coward knees to bow to him ! 

could I hve ! — Hve but to be avenged ! — 

1 have it — there's a hope — th' executioners — 
I know them well, right precious rascals too, 
With whom a bribe works miracles — I was 
At the late games their favourite champion ; 
Gold and my fortune yet shall set me free ! • 

[Exeunt omnes. 



SCENE 11. 
Hersilia with Justina. 

Hersilia. 

leave me here awhile to weep alone, 
That my poor heart, by silent anguish torn. 
May waste away its agony in tears. 

Justina. 

1 must not leave you, dearest lady, while 
You thus afflict yourself, and do refuse 
To hear the voice of comfort. 

Hersilia. 

Ah! Justina, 
Thou know'st but little of my father, if 



Scene II. J WALDIMAR. 61 

Thou dost indulge the cheating hope, that e'er 
He will be softened towards me, while I act 
The froward daughter — O no! his stem hate 
Will fall on and destroy my Claudius ; 
And I shall feel his cruelty and curse ! 
But leave me, and e'er long I'll come to thee. 

JUSTINA. 

I will, dear lady, since you bid me go ; 
But much it grieves me to abandon thus 
One whom I love so fondly, to her sorrows. 

[Exit JUSTINA. 

Hersilia. 

Stay, let me pause, and think if yet is left 
One ray of hope to dawn upon my mind 
In this its wretchedness. Should I consent 
To please a parent by the downfall of 
My all of happiness on earth, O what 
Would be the agony of Claudius ! 
To see the fabric of his fondest hopes 
Crushed by my cruelty, and feel through me 
His very life-pulse torture, and his heart 
Seared, blighted, desolate ! O no, no ! 
That cannot be, and yet to act not so. 
Were but to cause his ruin and my own ! 

Enter Claudius, hastily. 

Claudius. 

Hersilia ! and alone ! 

Hersilia. 

O Claudius ! (Mournfully.) 

Claudius. 
What mean these tears? this painful show of sadness ( 



62 VVALDIMAR. [Act IH. 

Hersilia. 

I scarce dare tell you, Claudius, and yet 
Your fond devotion to Hersilia claims 
Her undisguised tenderness, but oh ! — 

Claudius. 

Why pause you, why this flow of tears, Hersilia ? 

By Heaven, thou rack'st me with such torturing doubts ! 

Thou hast been wronged — O tell me, tell me, all ! 

{She continues tveeping.) 
Lives there the wretch, so reckless of his fate, 
As dare to cause thy tears, or dare to pour 
Insult on thee 1 Had he a thousand lives, 
Pd have them all ! 

Hersilia. 

O Claudius, be calm ; 
It is not so, you but distress me more 
By thus — 

Claudius, {interrupting her.) 

Nay, do not thou deceive me, love. 
From foolish tenderness ! I cannot brook 
Reserve in this from thee ; O tell me all ! — 
Thy feelings have been wounded — I must know- 
By whom — whose was the look, or word, or act, 
That gave the offence ? 

Hersilia. 

You are too violent. 
And do mistake the nature of my sorrows. 
I am indeed most sad, and yet, my love. 
Nought can avail, alas ! to soothe my grief, 
But your fond sympathizing heart — my father ! 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. (;:} 

Claudius. 

Ha! what of him? hath he dealt harshly with thee? 

Hersilia. 

Swear, as thou lovest me, and thine own soul, 
Thou wilt not raise an arm against his life, 
Howe'er he tempt thee to it — swear ! 

Claudius. 

But why? 
He is my general, and I dare not do it ; 
He is thy father, and I could not — no ! 
'Twould seem like parricide ; yet were the act 
A virtue, nay, did Heaven's voice command it, 
I love your father, spite of all his hate. 
And could not bring my soul to such a deed. 

Hersilia. 

Ay, but swear it ! for in the noble mind 
There is a spirit, which oppression rouses. 
And which the finger of envenom'd scorn 
Chafes Vond discretion ! such a mind is yours. 

swear it ! as ihou lov'st me, Claudius. 

Claudius. 

1 do most solemnly : art thou content ? 

Hersilia. 

I am — but list ! I hear my father's steps — 
I must be gone — but one word, and away ! 
Should he but meet us here, he'd load his child 
Still more with his dread anger. He hath sworn 
To part us, and to wreak on you his hate 
And dire revenge, if more we meet and love. 



64 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

Beware his friendship — 'tis a semblance all — 
Look to thyself, my Claudius — I can 
No more — farewell ! [Ala?-??! without 

What means this dread alarm ? 

JusTiNA rushes in. 

JUSTINA. 

O Claudius, haste ! the city's all in arms ! 
The crowd, infuriate at Martian's death, 
In wild uproar are pressing through the streets, 
Shouting aloud, for Waldimar, and vengeance ! 

Claudius. 

And where is he ? 

JUSTINA. 

Surrounded, as they say, 
And threatened with destruction ! — of his soldiers, 
Some, of the bravest have already fallen — 

Hersilia. 

O Claudius ! fly, to seek and save my father ! 

[Exeunt severally. 



SCENE m.~-The Street. 
To Gall A, enter Martian, in haste. 

Martian. 
Galla, well met — once more behold me free ! 

Galla. 
Thanks to good fortune ! 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 65 

Martian. 

Nay, still more to gold — 
To gold, that master key to human hearts ; 
What magic wonders can it not achieve ! 

Galla. 

Magic indeed ; I well nigh thought it was 
All over with thee. 

Martian. 

Faith ! I thought so too ; 
I did escape by miracle, as 'twere. 

Galla. 

*Tis strange indeed — nay, tell me, Martian, how ! 

Martian. 

Just as you left me, I was handed o'er 

To my two right good friends, th' executioners. 

You've seen them, Galla, have you not ? 

Galla. 

I have. 

Martian. 

Then, by my life, you've seen as vile a specimen 
Of nature's getting as this earth can match. 
Though you hunt out for monsters. When their eyes 
(The tiger's were not fiercer !) first fell on me. 
And told with every glance what pastime 'twas 
To glut their savage natures with my anguish — 

Galla. 

The moment was appalling. 

9 



ee • VVALDIMAR. [Act ill. 

Martian. 

O 'twas terrible ! 
" At once all things around me seemed to whirl, 
My brain grew dizzy, and my every bone 
Shook in its socket, and gave symptoms dire 
Of breaking outright. 

Galla< 

Well, and then?— 

Martian. 

Filled with affright, and with abhorrence of 
The ruffians, which I strove in vain to hide, 
I begged them, on my knees, to spare the man 
Who'd been their friend at every public course, 

Galla. 

This moved them not ? 

Martian. 

No, Galla, not a jot ; 
They would not have let slip the grateful task 
Of dealing out slow tortures, had it been 
On flesh and blood got from their own vile loins ; 
So was their nature wrought to it ! 

Galla. 

What followed? 

Martian. 

I told them, that for every drop of blood, 

And every agony they dealt to me, 

A swift and bloody vengeance would o'ertake them — 

That even now, an angry mob without 

But waited for the tidings of my death, 

At once to rush, and with a blow destroy them. 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 67 

Galla. 

Sure, this alarmed them ? 

Martian. 

They were marble still — " 
And now the villains had me in their grasp. 
And the big drops of mortal agony 
Stood on my brow — when in despair I urged, 
That I had hoards of gold, should all be theirs, 
If they would set me free ! — at this their eyes 
Straight lost their savage fierceness, and they paused ! 

Galla. 

That was the lucky moment. 

Martian. 

'Twas indeed ! — 
At once they stripped me of my whole estate ; 
And, 'scaping from their clutches, forth I rushed, 
At such a rate as man ne'er sped before. 

Enter the Mob. 

Martian. 

Ha ! my brave fellows ! 

First Citizen. 

Martian ! is it thou ? 

Martian. 

Rescued from chains and death, behold me here, 
As ripe for sport and mischief as before ! 

Second Citizen. 
How chanced it, Martian ? tell thou us the tale. 



68 WALDIMAR. [Act 1!!. 

Martian. 

I will recount it as we go along. 

Mob. 
Huzza ! brave Martian ! 

Martian. 

Hush ! or Fm betrayed ! 
We must be cautious, to avenge our wrongs. 
The spirit of rebellion is abroad — 
And Waldimar, for that he wrought nny death, 
Hath been assaulted in the public street, 
His soldiers slain. He thinks me dead — the crowd 
Think so, and let them ! — 'twill but goad them on 
To seek his ruin, and to aid our cause. 
Now, my friends, to action ! 

Mob. 
Huzza! Huzza! [Tnei/ rvsli out. 

SCENE lY.—Hall of the CitadfJ. 
Waldimar enters. 

Waldimar. 

Despised, insulted, trampled on by the mob, 
My officers murdered in the very streets, 
And for this Martian, whom I ordered slain, 
And glory that I did so ! — but the hour 
Of retribution is at hand, and Claudius, 
Won to my cause by flattering arts well plied. 
Shall be the instrument of my revenge ; 
Share with me all the dangers and the toil, 
And, alike guilty, answer for the deed ! 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 69 

Enter Claudius with Macro. 

To Macro. 

We'd be alone awhile, and have a care, 

That none intrude upon our privacy. [^Exit Macro. 

Well, Claudius, my friend, companion of 

My bosom's confidence, and in whose soul 

Fraught with such noble daring, I must look 

To aid each lofty purpose ; I would claim 

Thine ear awhile ; and mark me ! — but art sure 

That none are near us ? for methought I heard 

The sound of footsteps as I came along. 

Claudius. 

'Twas but the wind, that through yon battlements— 

WaLDI3IAR. 

I'd have it so, for I have that to tell, 
Which would, drank in by other ears than thine. 
Mar all my high-drawn projects. Claudius, 
I've marked thee in the fight, and thou wert there 
A foe most dangerous to meet ; and when 
Thy brave companions fell around thee, thou 
Didst rush on their destroyers, and avenge them ! 

Claudius. 

I did— 'twas friendship, nature's impulse, in 
Hot blood, or call it what thou wilt, that urged— 

Waldimar. 

It did thee honour, Claudius. Our troops 
Hail with delight these feats of angry war, 
And love the storming spirit in the field. 
But if to see thy loved compeers in arms 
Fall fighting for thy country, moved thy wrath, 
How feel'st thou at these late seditious broils? 



70 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

Claudius. 

Feel'st, say'st thou ? 

Waldimab. 

Ay — did'st, Claudius, 
Didst see amid the infuriated mob, 
Whose vengeance like the angry ocean stormed, 
Our warriors fall, and to ignoble death 
Sink in the dust, " crushed down ?" 

Claudius. 

See it ? thou know'st 
I did, and it doth chill my blood to think on't. 

Waldimaiu 

And didst thou see the mangled Clytus there. 
With features smeared with blood, and writhing with 
Black agony — and hear the dying groans. 
Which torturing anguish wrung from out his soul ? 
And, say, didst mark him point to us, and cry 
For vengeance on his murderers ? — didst mark it ? 

Claudius. 
Alas ! I did, and 'twas a sight to rouse — 

Waldimar. 

Ay, to rouse all that's savage in the soul, 

" And storm down pity !" and, say, would it not 

Be just and glorious, Claudius, to rush, 

Like some dread scourge, which angry Heaven dooms, 

On these assassins ? 

Claudius. 

What mean'st thou, Waldimar? 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 71 

Waldimar. 

Thou now art, Claudius, by the demise 
Of these brave leaders, who have fallen thus, 
Next to thy chief in office and command ; 
And I shall need thy zeal and daring spirit, 
T' advance the noble cause I set before thee. 

Claudius. 
All that my honour and my duty prompt — 

Waldimar, (interrupting him.) 

Then hear me, Claudius : on the morrow, when 
Our citizens, these dastard cut-throats, are. 
Lured by fair promises and gentle mien, 
Lulled to security ; which, like the calm 
That doth precede the tempest's thunders, shall 
Be but the prelude of a sterner act. 
Than gave fair Antioch to ruin — 



Claudius. 
I 



Surmise thy purpose. 



Waldimar. 

While these citizens 
Are at the games in this great festival, 
" We hold in honour of our guardian saint," 
Assembled, I design to have the force. 
Which guards our city's walls, in arms surround 
The circus and the theatres ; and then. 
At signal sounded to begin the course, 
Rush fierce as tigers on their prey, and fall 
On the defenceless. Now thou understand'st me- 
I'd have thee secret, and arrange thy plans 
To execute this project ; thou, go forth, 



72 WALDIMAR. [Act 111. 

And with thy artful eloquence persuade 

The Senate, that we do forego our wrath, 

And wait the justice of the Emperor. 

But now, methinks, thy proffered zeal doth flag — 

Thou answer'st not, art cold, when such a theme 

Should fire thee ! 

Claudius. 

I'm silent from amazement ! 
Dost mean it, Waldimar, or is't to try, 
If I'm the base and heartless villain which 
This deed would make me, that thus warmly thou 
Dost urge upon my mind these thoughts of horror ? 

Waldimar. 

Nay, 'tis but justice rousing at the groans 
Of murdered Clytus, and the glorious brave, 
Who, trampled foully down, thus fell with him. 
Lives not his death-cry in thine ear, and still 
Art cold ? a soldier thou ! O shame on thee ! 

Claudius. 

Nay, greater shame on thee, thou man of flint, 

Who art as cruel as the monster in 

His savage hunger, and dost glut thy soul 

With blood, as if for pastime ! what a stain 

To all the glories thou hast gained in war. 

To manhood, honour, and humanity ! 

The very blood that crimsoned o'er our streets, 

The widow's piercing cry, the orphan's moans, 

The Senate's curses, and the deadly hate 

Which good men pour on cruelty and crime, 

Would loudly cry out, shame on thee ! 

Waldimar. 

Go on ! 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 73 

I know thee prompt at words, and that thou canst 
Call tropes and figures to adorn thy speech; 
Thou'rt famed for it, and it were pity that 
Such high conceits be lost — nay, sir, go on ! 

Claudius. 

Ay, though thou mock'st me, I will tell thee that 

I hold thy wishes in deep execration, 

As but the purpose of some murderous fiend, 

That drives thee onward thus, and so would damn thee. 

Waldimar. 

Art done, my orator ? or would'st thou pour 
More eloquence upon me, which affects 
My nature, as the waters do the rocks 
They fall on ? Know, I came not here to learn 
From prosing dulness what I have to do. 
Or what I have not ; no, I came to rouse 
A soldier to his duty, to revenge ! 
Wilt thou assent, or brave me as thou dost ? 
Tell me at once, for I will hear no subterfuge. 

Claudius. 

Yes, I Will brave you in this foul design ; 
And I'll go forth unto the Senators, 
And spread through every house the dire alarm ; 
And ere thou canst thine armed legions gain, 
I'll have thee captive held, and make, ay, make 
Thy very troops in arms revolt against thee ! 

Waldimar. 

Such threats are idle — were I so inclined. 
Madman ! thou'dst see the light of day no more. 
Thou'st yet to know how many guards protect 
The person of thy chief. What, ho ! there, guards ! 

[Goes to lower end of the hall — Guards 
suddenly appear around. 
10 



74 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

These are the creatures of my will ; with these 
I laugh all traitors' empty threats to scorn. 

Claudius. 

All this disturbs me not — thou dar'st not do 
An act of violence toward me. 

Waldimar. 

How! 
I dare not, say you ? — but I must be calm ! 

[Waves his hand, and Guards disappear. 
'Tis not that I have aught to fear from thee, 
(" As what thou hast just seen can testify,") 
That with the power t' enforce thy will, I have 
With mildness sought thy favour to my cause — 
But I have sworn to do this act, and have 
Given all my soul to it, and feel thine aid 
Will be required, with all devoted zeal, 
To its entire accomplishment — can nought 
That I have urged, or can bestow on thee, 
Change thy resolve ? 

Claudius. 

No, nothing in thy gift. 
Nor yet within the power of kings to offer. 

Waldimar. 

When Theodosius shall arrive, and greet 
Our city with his presence and his smile, 
I will on bended knee, I swear it, ask 
As the reward of all my services, 
To exalt thee to like rank and dignity 
With that I hold. 

Claudius. 
This moves me not a jot. 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 75 

Waldimar. 

Nay more, Levinus, my devoted friend 
Shall league with me by art, and urgent suit, 
To raise thy fortunes. 

Claudius. 

Thou dost waste thy breath. 

Waldimar. 

A promise costs but little, may do much — 
I'll bait him with my daughter ; if he should 
Reject the offer, he is more than man ! (Aside.) 
I have a daughter, whom, if not belied. 
Thou lovest as thy soul. 

Claudius. 

Thy daughter! ha! 

Waldimar. 

I do intend her youthful brow shall shine 
With royal diadem, for as I learn 
The young Arcadius sickens to behold 
Her matchless beauties ! 

Claudius. 

And thou, father-like, 
Wilt give the wretched victim to his arms ! 

Waldimar. 

Would'st have me, Claudius ? 'tis thine to forge 

These chains so hateful to Hersilia ; 

But which stern duty, and long suffering 

Shall force her nature to : but if thou wilt. 

Thou shalt throw off these bonds, and triumph o'er 

Thy rival, and the adverse fate would part ye. 



7« WALDIMAR. [Act IK. 

Claudius, 

O were the means but such as honour sanctions ! 

Waldimar. 

They are ! they are ! then tell me, Claudius, 

Wilt see the virgin bloom upon her cheek. 

Her lips so formed for love, but wliich were ne'er 

Sighed on by mortal, and are still as pure, 

As are the smiles of cradled infancy ; 

Would'st have them tasted, with impassioned warmth, 

Ay, and before thine eyes ? 

Claudius. 

The thought were madness ! 

Waldimar. 

Then know, that thou canst with a word destroy 
The raptures of Arcadius, and live 
For ever smiled on, and for ever blest ! 

Claudius. 

Thou dost not mock me, Waldimar ? for 'twere 
A damned treachery. 

Waldimar. 

No ! by my life, 
It shall be so, and I myself will light 
The torch that kindles at thy nuptial hour. 
And crown with blessings, and with rapturous joy, 
The glorious festival. 

Claudius. 

O Waldimar ! 
Thou tempt'st me with a lure, compared with which 
A thousand worlds were nothingness ! Be down — (Aside.) 
Be down, base hopes, nor throb each pulse so wild ! 



Scene IV.] V/ALDIMAR. 77 



Waldimar. 

I'll give with her a dowry, which shall cope 
With that of princes ; and thou shalt retire, 
Far from the bustling world, and war's alarms, 
To some fair scene, where nature wakes to joy, 
Secluded in a spot most wild, yet lovely ! 
The morning air shall breathe but of her sighs, 
And evening woo her fondly to thine arms ! — 

Claudius. 

Waldimar ! cease ; nay cea|e; I'll hear no more — 
Spare me, O spare me ! ""'^^ 

Waldimar. 

Ha ! he's mine ! he's mine ! {Aside, exultingly.) 
Wilt thou thus revel in the purer joys. 
That flow from love and fair Hersilia's arms, 
Or shall Arcadius ? 

Claudius. 

Perish the thought ! 
By all my hopes, he shall not — no ! my soul 
Is melted down to what thou'dst have me, and 

1 yield myself to thy disposal — there. 
There's my hand on't. {Offering his hand.) 

Waldimar. 

Thou'rt again my friend. {Taking it.) 
I'll sketch out my design, and briefly state 
The duties I require thee to perform. 

{During the ensuing speech of Claudius, Waldimar sits 
at a table writing, and watches him with great anxiety.) 

Claudius. 

Thy friend ! — now farewell, honour, faith and pity ! 



78 WALDIMAR. [Act HI. 

Ye will not bide with guilt — away from Claudius ! 

For he has sold himself to crime, and is 

Vile as the assassin in the night, who stabs 

And butchers, while liis victims, sunk in sleep, 

Lie groaning in their helplessness. O Heaven ! 

And can I hope for blessing, thus defiled 

With what the very fiends in hell would shrink at ? 

Would not her kisses poison my soul's peace. 

Bought at the price of blood, which would rise up 

In horrible remembrance at each blush, 

That crimsoned on her cheek ! and when she spoke 

With look of angel sweetness, and with tones 

Of more than woman's tenderness, O would not 

Each dying groan, and mad'ning shriek they cost, 

Return to blast them all, and drive my brain 

At once to desperation ? or, yet worse 

Than death, than all these horrors, would she not 

Hate murder, treachery, and foul revenge, 

And shrink with loathing from me ? 'Tis all horrible ! 

Waldimar. 

Dost waver, then, mad boy ? 

Claudius. 

Away, thou fiend ! 
Thou, who would'st rack me with remorse, and heap 
Upon my head, this load of blackened crimes ! 
Away ! thou'dst make my name, now hailed with love, 
The hatred and the scorn of men, the foulest blot. 
That ever stained humanity — away ! 
I'll to the Senate, and defy your vengeance ! 

Waldimar. 

Why, thou art, Claudius, more the fool than I, 
With all thy prating, had imagined thee ; 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 79 

Forth to the Senate, and the people, go ! 
Thou wilt ere long, I doubt me not, be wiser. 

Claudius. 

How proudly, Waldimar, does this bosom beat, 
While I proclaim myself thy foe, and rush 
To save whom thou would'st mangle and destroy — ■ 
Farewell ! I would not have thy heart for empires ! 

Waldimar. 

Hold ! art thou mad ? and think'st thou to go hence 
To thwart my purposes, and blight my hopes, 
And load me thus with scorn ? ho ! Guards there ! Guards ! 
[Guards rush in from around the hall. 
Seize on this youth, who has rebelled against me. 

Claudius, {struggling with them.) 
Unhand me, soldiers, or ye shall repent ! 

Waldimar. 

Vile minion of the people, whom I hate, 

In league with whom, you've plotted to destroy me ; 

Thou, who, low-born, a beggar, hast aspired 

To wed the daughter of thy chief — now tremble ! 

Claudius. 
I fear you not — your threat'nings I despise ! 

Waldimar. 

Thou canst write letters, too, and meanly aim 
To filch from me my office, and betray me ! 
These proofs of treason thou darest not deny ! 

[Showing letterS' 

Claudius. 

No, they were honestly and kindly meant, 
Alike to thee, and to our citizens. 



80 WALDIMAR. [Act III. 

Waldimar. 

Hollow pretences all ! — and once you dared 

Officiously to cross me in my purpose, 

When I had planned a scheme of just revenge — ■ 

Claudius. 

The recollection is a proud one to me ! 

Waldimar. 

It shall not last you long, while I have power 
To trample on, and crush thee. Thou hast been 
At every turn my bane ; now, thou shalt feel me ! 
Seize him, I say, nor dare let loose your hold ! 

[Guards advance, and seize him, 

Claudius. 

Tyrant, I do defy you ; do your worst ! 

[They bear him off. 

Waldimar. 

Rash, stubborn fool ! thou'st sealed thy doom ; thou shalt ; 

Be straight disposed of-r— then for retribution ! 

Tis nature's law, blood should for blood atone. 

Now, mighty spirits of my fallen soldiers. 

Look down and smile on this avenging deed ! 

And oh ! ye dire and angry elements, 

Engendered in the depths of hell, that war 

In fiendish bosoms, now possess me all ! 

Blow up your deadly fires of rage within me ; 

Make my soul savage, nerve my outstretch'd arm 

With fury, like the whirlwind's to destroy! 

[Exit, 



END OF ACT THIRD. 



Scene I.] WALDLMAll. 81 



ACT FOURTH. 



SCENE I— The Street. 

As Lucius is crossing the stage, enter from behind, 
Theodosius and Levinus, in disguise. 

TlIEODOSIUS. 

Who's that? 

Levinus. 

It is some Senator, to judge 
By outward seeming. 

Theodosius. 

I will question him. 
Good sir, we're strangers, and but just arrived, 
And fain would know what news is stirring here. 

Lucius. 

Not much to speak of, save that we have had 
Some civil broils of late, disastrous ones, 
That may be fraught with dangers to us all. 

Theodosius. 
I've heard of them — what is it now ye fear? 

. Lucius. 

Our Gen'ral, Waldimar — the cause is his. 
And he is subtle, haughty, and vindictive ; 
He is a tyrant, and his chains have galled us, 

11 



82 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

He has just thrown, 'tis said, the gallant Claudius 
In chains — for what, I know not. 

Theodosius. 

How ! in chains? 

(To Levinus, aside.) 
This old man's speech doth bear a shrewd denotement 
That mischief has been busy here. Good sir, 
" How rose the tumult ? 

Lucius. 

At the pubUc games. 
All went on smoothly, and applauses loud 
Crowned every sport, till forth the chariot came, 
And with another hand to guide the reins. 
And curb the fury of the mettled steed, 
Than his, whom Waldimar, impatient of 
The dilatory forms of law, had put 
To torture and to death, and thus opposed 
The earnest wishes of the people. , 

Theodosius. 

Then- 
Lucius, 

Then loud resounded menace and uproar 
Throughout the crowd assembled, who burst forth 
With cries for Waldimar, and trampled down 
The weaker in their path, who struggling fell, 
And died with suffocation. On they rushed, 
Felling each soldier down with furious rage. 
Nor paused a moment, till they saw the man 
They sought, defended by his retinue. 
Some twenty officers around their chief, 
Who still maintained their ground ; then high the mob 
On pikes the heads of slaughtered soldiery 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. S3 

Held forth to view triumphantly, and shook 
Their gory visages, and every where 
The shout of vengeance rose ! 

Theodosius. 

Where was Claudius ? 

Lucius. 

Forcing his way through the opposing crowd, 

He by his chief in firm defiance stood. 

And cooly braved the danger, till he saw 

The little band of Waldimar's officers 

Sink down beneath the force that overwhelmed them : 

Then he rose up, and with loud cries called out 

For audience, which so long they had denied 

His chief ; and while he spoke the crowd gave way, 

And order followed soon." 

Theodosius. 

Where's Claudius confined ? 

Lucius. 

Within the citadel — the eastern wing, 
As it was told me. 

Theodosius. 

Sir, can yon direct me 
To find his prison ? 

Lucius. 

I doubt, my friend, I can — 
What would you with him ? 

Theodosius. 

Umph ! sir, I know not — 
A wandering mood, or — thou Levinus, {Aside, to him.) 



84 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

Be sure to meet me one hour hence, fail not, 

Near Antoninus' statue. I will follow 

This good old man to Claudius — each door 

Will be unbarred to me, when I make known 

My name and state. Now come, kind sir, we'll on ! 

\_Exeunt severally. 



SCENE 11. 

The Prison, with varioiis instrumerds and engines of torture 
spread around. 

Enter Theodosius, and observes Claudius, who stands lost 

in thought. 

Theodosius. 

There stands the soldier, and with folded arms, 

Seems in deep contemplation lost. 'Tis well, 

He sees me not — I'll stand aside awhile. 

And thus observe him. Ha ! what sounds are those ? 

[Retif-es. 

Enter Waldimar. 

Waldimar. 

How lik'st thy prison, boy ? methinks it were 
An act of kindness to have sent thee here ; 
For lovers feed, they say, on solitude, 
And that it lacks not of, 

Claudius. 

No, nor of aught 
Of horror's hideous forms, and emblems of 
Despair and agony — all but reflect 
■Thy stern, infuriate, and relentless soul. 

Waldimar. 
Yes, there's some show of engines here, 'tis true, 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 8ft 

That do their work of torture, and stretch out 
A limb or so at times ; but what of that? 
They'll furnish fuel for thine eloquence ; 
And when thou kindlest in thy speech, the walls 
Shall listen in mute wonder, as did I — 
Withflike emotion too ! 

Claudius. 

O 'twas not so, 
When what thou scoft''st at, Waldimar, subdued 
The rage of thousands, rushing to destroy thee, 
And bore thee safely from the angry fray. 

Waldimar. 

*Tis the ungenerous mind alone, recounts 
The benefits it heaps upon us. 

Claudius. 

'Tis 
The savage mind, that knows no gratitude, 
And seeks to wound the hand, to which it owes 
Protection and deliverance. 

Waldimar. 

To thee 
I owe nothing ; no, I did not bid thee 
Cringe down, a suppliant to the angry mob, 
And sue them to be merciful ; or if 
I had demeaned myself so basely as 
To bow to their supremacy, it were 
Thy duty to obey me — ay, thy duty ! 
I owe thee nothing ; yet if 'twere a debt, 
I offered thee my daughter, and so cancelled it. 

Claudius. 
Thou didst assure me of thy daughter's hand, 



66 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

To tempt me on to crime, and 'twas an act 
To blush at, and despise ! 

Waldimar, 

Art thou resolved 
To thwart my purpose, and rebel against 
The orders of thy General ? 

Claudius. 

I am — 
Not dread of torture, nor the thoughts of death, 
Nor yet the blandishments of wedded love, 
Can shake my nature, that shrinks back from guilt 
So fiend-like, and accurst ! 

Waldimar. 

Then meet thy fate — 
For know, that ere the Emperor shall come, 
And with his clemency can stay the arm 
Now lifted to destroy, the gushing blood 
Of thousands shall in wide libations flow. 
To appease the ashes of my soldiers slain. 

Claudius. 

Can Heaven then suffer such fell purposes 
To triumph ? O could I throw off these chains ! 

Waldimar. 

Nay, listen — when the trumpet's blast shall rise. 
As 'twill, ere long, the signal of the carnage, 
" Like the last awful summons from the tomb, 
That dooms the guilty to despair and vengeance," 
'Twill sound thy death knell, Claudius ; thy life 
Must be laid down for mine, for thou hast made 
This act essential to thy chief 's defence, 
And art thyself thine executioner. 



Scene 11.] WALDIMAR. 87 

Claudius. 
How 1 my life ! 

Waldimar. 

Thou shalt die a rebel's death, 
And shalt stand charged as such to Theodosius. 
The proofs designed, by cunning art, are framedy 
To justify the speedy fate designed thee. 

Claudius. 

And is all lost then ? must I die, and must 

These victims bleed ? can none, no means be had ? 

Waldimah. 

I've but a word more for thine ear, and ther> 
We part for ever. Thy Hersilia has 
Conceived it wiser to forego the love 
Of a poor, broken down, and guilty soldier. 
And yields, obedient to her father's wishes. 

Claudius. 

Think'st thou to palm on me so gross a tale, 
That on the very front on't bears the lie ? 
Hersilia false ! her sympathizing bosom 
Thus estranged from me in adverse fortune ! 
I'll not believe it ; no, though all the world 
Beside desert me, she would but entwine 
The closer round me — she is all, all truth ! 

Waldimar. 

She better knows her duty to her father ; 

There is her hand t' it. {Hands letter.) Read, thou credulous, 

Fond, doting fool ! 'tis mine to triumph now. 

'Twas counterfeited well, and must deceive him. {Aside.) 



88 WALDIMAR. [Act IV 

Read, read, I'll listen, for I love to hear 
These amorous epistles, as thou know'st. 

Claudius. 

'Tis but too true ; the hand indeed is hers ! 

Ah ! what an hour is this, when all that gives 

A charm to being or a calm to death, 

Fate tears away from me ! Hersilia, ah ! 

I looked upon thy love, as the sole light 

That dawned upon my darkened fortunes ; thou, 

Thou now art gone, and all is black despair ! 

Waldimar. 

Now, Claudius, thou'rt fallen, with thy pride. 
To the abyss, to which this day I hurl 
My enemies, who've dared to brave my power. 
I scorn and hate, yet pity thee ! 

Hersilia, without, cries — 
Claudius ! 

Enter Hersilia. 

^ Waldimar. 

Back, back, rash girl ! 

Hersilia. 

Where, where art thou, my love T 
They told me thou wert bound in cruel chains, 
And wert to die a malefactor's death. 

Waldimar. 

He is, and I have just pronounced his doom — 
Leave us, and rouse not thus my anger, lest 
I do some deed of madness — 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 89 

Hersilia. 

My Claudius ! {Fondly to him.) 

Claudius. 

Dost come to mock me with this show of love ? 
Could'st thou write thus to thy poor Claudius, 
Who waits his death, in vile, degrading chains, 
And whose sole joy hung fondly upon thee ? 

Hersilia. 

no ! 'tis false ! the writing is not mine — 

1 love — I dote upon thee more than life ! 

[They rush into each other's arms, 

Waldimar. 
Guards! (Fiercely.) 

Hersilia, {Throwing herself at Waldimar*s feet, and 
clinging to him.) 

O my father ! spare him ! save thy child 
The fearful struggle, and the agony 
His death would cause her ! O, in pity, spare him ! 

Waldimar. 

Guards ! seize this girl, and lead him to his fate ! 

[Guards advance — she rushes to Claudius. 
Hersilia. 
No, I will stay, and suffer with him, though 
Your cruelty should drain my heart's blood from me ! 
'Tis through my breast alone, ye reach at his ! 

[Guards again advance — the trumpet sounds loudly. 

Waldimar. 

Ha ! the trumpet sounds ! away with her, 
And bear this Claudius to instant death ! 

12 



&0 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

Guards tear her anc? Claudius asunder — the trumpet sounds 
again, when Theodosius rushes forward, throwing off his 
disguise, and appearing in his imperial robes. All kneel 
except Waldimar, who stands proudly. All with surprise 
exclaim, Theodosius ! 

Waldimar. 

Ha ! Theodosius ! 

Theodosius. 

Guards, unloose his chains, 

{They unbind Claudius. 
And bear the virgin safe to her apartments. 

{Exit Hersilia, with Attendants. 
Now, Claudius, thou worthy, noble youth. 
Haste to the circus, every where, and stop 
The carnage of this dreadful hour. Ourself 
Will forward, and with all our power suppress 
The tumult. Guards, look to him well, and heed 
That he escape not ! {Pointing to Waldimar.) 

We shall meet again ! {To him.) 

{Exeunt Theodosius and Claudius. 

Manent Waldimar and Guards. 

Waldimar. 

Well, now I'm left to buffet with the storm, 

Which rudely threatens to o'erwhelm my fortunes : 

But they shall find me fixed, as is the rock 

Based in the depths of ocean, against which 

The wave tempestuous, or the lapse of time 

Avails not. {C^!/ without. 

Hark ! the loud and vengeful cry 
Still lives and triumphs ! now, now I care not, 
What is the destiny to which fate dooms me ! 

{Shouts without. 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 91 

Ha ! again ! my soul is fired with rage, 

And pants for action ! [Turns and sees Guards. 

Ah ! guarded ! nay, then 
I'll force my passage through you, tho' each arm 
Were clothed with thunders to appal me ! What ! 
Stand forth against your chief! 'tis I — 'tis Waldimar ! 

[Waldimar j'ushes by them — they stand 
irresolute, then follow. 



SCENE III. 

Hersilja discovered on the Balcony of a Wing of the Citadel. 

Hersilia. 

Ah ! why, Justina, why delay so long, 

To bring me tidings of my father's safety, 

Leaving me thus, in this deserted citadel, 

A prey to apprehension and dismay ? 

Hark ! I hear footsteps ; this way too, they come — 

Justina, is it thou ? [Noise without. 

Enter Martian and Galla. 

Martian. 

Not so, fair mistress ! 
'Tis to a maiden a more welcome guest. 

Hersilia. 

Ah ! Heaven defend me from these rude alarms ! 

[Hersilia retires 

Martian. 

Now by this light, a fair and gallant prize ! (To Galla.) 

Galla. 

Why trifle thus, when all are up in arms ? 



92 VVALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

Martian. 

True, Galla, we will on, and join the fight, 
Where blows are thickest, and the carnage flows 
Most widely ; there we'll meet our enemy. 

Galla. 

Ah ! now, my friend, thou art thyself again. 

Martian. 

And yet it grieves me, Galla, to depart, 
And leave so rich a mine of joy behind, 

Galla, 

Psha ! — Here's our band. 

Enter Citizens. 

Citizens. 

Ay, Galla, we are here — 

First Citizen. 
And noble Martian wait, to lead us on. 

Martian. 

1 will not balk ye — come, let's sally forth, 

And hunt these bloodhounds out, that would betray us. 

Galla. 

The battle rages nearer — Hark ! I hear 
The shout of voices and the clash of arms— 

Martian. 

Let it come on — 'tis music to my ear, 
And kindles martial fires within my veins ! 



Scene III.] WALDIMAR. 

Citizens. 

Huzza ! for Waldimar ! 

Martian. 

Down with the traitor ! 

Galla. 

Death to the tyrant ! 

Citizens. 

Death! Huzza! huzza 5 

Martian. 

Can any of ye tell what lady 'tis 
That tenants yon apartments? 

First Citizen. 

Ay, it is 
The lady Hersilia, daughter to the General. 

Martian. 

To Waldimar? 

First Citizen, 
The same. 

Martian. 

Is't possible ? 
By all that's happy, now a glorious thought 
Doth strike me I — Brave companions, who would not 
Dash to the earth, by one fell, single blow. 
This tyrant, whom we hate? 

Citizens. 

We all would do it. 
Name but the means — 



m WALDIMAR. LActIV= 

Martian. 

Behold, behold them here ! 
The fair Hersilia, that he dotes upon. 
Is in yonder citadel ; let's rush in, 
And bear her off, before the alarm be given. 

First Citizen. 
'Tis nobly said, brave Martian ; haste, let's in ! 

Galla. 

Stay ! I protest against this act — 'tis cruel ; 
Nay, 'tis unmanly, thus to war with women ; 
With men, with bloody men, we have to do. 

Martian. 

Peace, babbler, peace, we want not thy advice ; 
Stand thou aloof, man, an thou lik'st it not — 
Now, comrades, forward to the enterprise ! 

[Martian and Citizens rush in. 

Galla. 

O it is monstrous ! and I do abhor 
An act so cowardly, and pitiless. 

[Exit on side of the stage. 

SCENE YV.— Inside the Citadel. 
Hersilia enters in alarm. 

Hersilia. 

Where shall I fly ? the ruffians have advanced 
Within the threshold — hark ! they are ascending — 
Now they approach — the fierce and desperate band. 
That hate my father, aim to wreak their vengeance 
Qn his defenceless child ! [Noise without. 

They come ! they come ! 



Scene IV.] WALDIMAR. 95 

What's to be done ? aid me, ye powers of mercy, 

So to throw off, in this appalling hour, 

My shrinking nature from me, that my soul. 

Armed with new strength, and more than woman's daring, 

May yet preserve me from despair and ruin ! 

[The Mob rush in shouting, Martian at their head, 
and advance to seize her. 
Hold ! are ye brutes, and wear the forms of men. 
But as the cover to your savage rudeness ? 
Say, have ye hearts, and are they not of stone. 
So cruelly to trample on my weakness ? 
Are ye not cowards, ay, the basest cowards. 
Thus to insult an unprotected woman ! 

Martian. 

By those bright eyes, and that all glorious beauty. 
Thou shalt tliis instant on with us ! 

[Martian seizes her by tJte arm. 

Hersilia. 

What mean ye ? 
Let go your hold ! oh ! yet have pity on me ; 
On me, a woman, at your feet imploring — 
One, who ne'er wronged ye, yet ye would destroy her ! 
A wretched, helpless, unresisting woman ! 
If ye'd a spark of manhood in your natures, 
'Twould kindle such a glow of shame within ye, 
Ye would recoil, nor do a deed so monstrous ! 

Martian. 
Lady, we're firm, not moved by woman's tears. 

Hersilia. 

Beware ! I have a father— I have friends, 
Who will revenge this outrage with your blood ! 

First Citizen. 

Martian, let's on ! 



96 VVALDIMAR. [Act iV. 

Hersilia, (shrinking in horror fi^om him.) 

Ha ! Martian ! — sound accurs'd ! 
Say any thing that's horrible but that ! 
I am indeed betrayed, and lost for ever ! 

Martian. 

We must begone. 

[-He advances to take her in his arms — she draws a 
dagger from her bosom. 

Hersilia. 

Monster ! away from me ! 
For, if thou darest pollute me with thy touch, 
I'll strike thee to the heart, though in the act, 
I fall a corse beside thee ! 

Martian. 

Thour't deceived — 
Banish these terrors ; we would harm thee not — 
Thy father's wealth shall give thee back thy freedom, 

Hersilia. 

Ha ! mean ye thus ? — villain ! I'll trust you not — 

Most valiant soldiers, that would thus assault 

A woman at your mercy ; since my fate 

Will have it so, I must along with ye — 

Let me remain untouched, and free from insult, 

I'll follow where your wills may chance to lead me, 

Martian. 

We promise, lady, thou shalt be obeyed. 

Hersilia. 

But if you dare to violate that pledge, 

I have a dagger, which, though wielded by 



Scene v.] WALDIMAR. 97 

A feeble woman, yet her wrongs will give 

Force to her arm, and find the way to vengeance ! 

\^Exit with them. 



SCENE V. 

A public Square of the City — Soldiers rush in, with cries of 
"Claudius! Claudius!" Waldimar rushes in from 
opposite side. 

Waldi3iar. 

Hold ! hold ! By Heaven ! the man who dares t' advance 

But the tithe part of my sword's length, shall be 

A corse, that instant! It is Waldimar, 

Your chief, who speaks ! who dares refuse to hear ? 

Who dares cry out for Claudius ? though he had 

A thousand spears to back him, by the fury. 

That nerves the sinews of this arm, he dies ! 

What ! do ye murmur still ? nay, then advance ! 

I singly dare ye to the charge — come on ! 

I laugh defiance to a host of rebels ! 

[JL pause — they lean on their arms — none advance. 
What ! cowards too ! O there was once a time. 
When this bright sword had hewn me out a path, 
Where our proud eagles shone, and you had trod 
Along with me to glory ! — but 'tis past ; 
Ye are base slaves, not Roman soldiers, now. 
Look at this blade — 'tis gory with revenge ! 
The cause was yours, that stained it with the blood, 
That wears a deeper crimson at your shame ! 
Where is your fire ? 'tis murdered Clytus calls. 
Forget ye how your fellow soldiers fell ? 
How murder reared their severed heads on high X 
And sleeps your vengeance still ? The statue s, 

13 



J98 ' WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

Ay, and these stones, their gushing life-blood dyed i 
And can ye gaze on them with eye unkindled, 
And with a soul, that swells not with revenge ? 
Say, are ye men ? 

Soldiers. 
We are — we are — lead on f 

Waldimar. 

Now, soldiers, are ye glorious as when 

Ye rushed undaunted to the shock of war ! 

Again I take ye to my heart ; and now. 

Forth to the Hippodrome and through the streets ; 

Be furious ; spare not ! let your vengeance, like 

The bolts of angry Heaven, fall upon them ! 

In this great cause, we triumph, or we die ! 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE VI.— ^ remote part of the City. 

Enter Lucius. 

Lucius. 

Ah ! whither shall I go ? where turn to rest 

These weak and aged limbs, in safety from 

This whirlwind of destruction, that spares not 

The infant struggling at the mother's breast, 

And rudely tears the reverend locks of age, 

In cruel mockery — O day of horror ! 

Alas ! alas ! such pitiless sights I've seen, 

Such shrieks, such groans I've heard, till that my ears 

Can catch no other sound but their dire echoes ! 

Who comes there? [Claudius is seen, crossing the Stage- 



Scene VI.j WALDIMAR. 99 

Claudius. 

Lucius, my friend ! 

Lucius. 

Ah! Claudius! 
I joy to see thee safe ! — how speeds it now ? 

Claudius. 

" The slaughter has been wide and great ; throughout 

Our city's streets is left, in characters 

Of blood engraved, the record of this scene." 

The tumult has subsided, save where Waldimar 

Raves unrestrained, with bloody sword unsheathed* 

And furious rushes to destroy whate'er 

His rage encounters. None withstand his arm. 

Lucius. 

And thou — • 

Claudius. 

I aim no weapon 'gainst his life. 
An angel hovers 'round his form, protecting ; 
That angel is his child : to her I've sworn, 
This arm should ne'er be raised to his destruction. 

[Enter Galla, in haste — Claudius raises his 

sword to attack him. 

Galla. 

Nay, Claudius, stay thy hand ; in me behold 
Thy friend ! The lady Hersilia— 

Claudius. 

Hersilia ! 



100 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

Galla. 

Has been borne off by Martian, and is now 

In rude and desperate hands — then haste, O haste ! 

With me, to save her, ere it be too late. 

Mount a fleet horse — I'll join you instantly. 

CliArDIUS. 

Nay, let us onward with the lightning's speed ! 

[Exeunt severally. 

Lucius. [Alann icithout. 

Where can I hope to find a place of safety ? 
The scenes of this disastrous day have quite 
Subdued my fortitude and feeble strength. 

Waldimar rushes in fiercely. 

Waldimar. 

Turn, thou old Senator : behold the man. 
Whom thou hast braved, insulted, scoffed at ! 
Dost know me, thou old dotard, who art wont 
To beard me in the Senate, and revile me ? 

Lucius. 

Flinty as is thy nature, Waldimar, 

Thou canst not strike at helpless age like mine. 

Waldimar. 

Were thy spare trunk more fleshless than it is, 
Thy bones more marrowless, and not an hour 
Of life within those tottering limbs, I'd strike ! 
I hate thee ! — I am chafed — ay, goaded on 
To very madness ! all conspire against me ! 
They hunt me out, like wild beast, for their prey ! 
I'll be revenged — I live but for revenge ! 
And thus — draw and defend thyself! 



Scene VI.J WALDIMAR. 101 

[They fight — Lucius is disarmed, and sinks on his 
knees — Waldimar raises his sword, when, at sight 
of Martian, loho enters, he shrinks back with supei^- 
stitious awe, and drops his sword — Lucius, astonished, 
retires. 

Waldimar, {gazing at Martian.) 

What strange appalling sight is that before me ! 
'Twould seem that hell had power to conjure up 
The very dead, to palsy so my arm. 
And make my limbs thus powerless ! What art thou ? 

Martian. 

Thine enemy ! and wouldst know more of me, 
I've lived to blast thy peace, and thus defy thee ! 
Thy daughter ! 

Waldi»iar. 

Ha ! {Strongly.) 

Martian. 

Is in my hands. 

Waldimar. 

And lives ? 

Martian. 

She does ; 
[Waldimar, instinctively kneels, and raises his hands 
to Heaven. 
And shall not die, while rich in beauty, nor 
Whilst thou hast gold enough to ransom her. 

Waldimar. 

O villain ! villain ! 

{^Seizes his sword from tJie ground, and rises. 



102 WALDIMAR. [Act iV. 

Martian. 

Look not tow'rd me thus 
With threatening brow, for know, imperious man, 
Thou dar'st not harm me ! 

Waldimar. 

Dar'st not? 

Martian. 

On my life 
Hangs that of her, whose loss you would deplore — 
No mortal, -save myself, knows her retreat ; 
Destroy me now, thou'lt never see her more ! 

Waldimar. 

1 do believe thou jugglest with me ; but, 
Fiend, it shall not avail thee — better die 
Of any death, how horrible soe'er, 
Than live within thy power an instant ! 
Have at thee then ! [They fight — Martian is slain. 

Rufus, thou art avenged ! 

Enter Theodosius, unarmed, on one side of the stage — the 
Imperiaii Guards on the other — Waldimar stands in the 
centre. 

Theodosius. 

Where, where is Waldimar ? 

Waldimar. 

Behold him here ! 

Theodosius. 
Foul, tainted rebel, yield thee to thy king ! 



Scene VI.] WALDIMAR. loa 

Waldimar. 

I'm wading deep in seas of blood; beware, 
They do not overwhelm even thee 1 

Theodosius. 

Seize him ! {To Guards.) 

Waldimar. 

Alive, ye shall not, and if I must fall, 
Ye shall not butcher me, till I have made 
A fearful slaughter 'mong ye ! 

Theodosius. 

Waldimar ! 
Give up thy weapon ! 'tis thy monarch speaks 1 

Waldimar. 

I am not in the mood to heed the voice, 

Nor dread the frown and majesty of kings. 

Let me pass on in safety ; give me way, 

Lest, fearless and unawed, I dash thy crown 

From oif thy brow, and hurl thee to the earth, 

As tho' thou wert some slave, that dared provoke me 1 

Theodosius. 

Rush on him ! let not the vile traitor breathe 
Words of so foul an import— spare him not ! 

[Waldimar suddenly seizes Theodosius, with his sword 
aimed at his breast, and drives him to his knee. 
Come, thronging all in countless multitudes ! {To Soldiers.) 
Strike but one blow, lay but an arm upon me. 
And this proud monarch, who within my grasp 
Now shrinks appalled and powerless, shall die ! 
Strike ! and my blood shall mingle with your king's I 
" How ! ye dare not i here then I take my stand — 
No arm shall bind me, while my own is free ; 



104 WALDIMAR. [Act IV. 

No hand shall strike, while thus I've power to wield 

This gory blade, though royalty command it !" [A pause. 

Theodosius, thou hast stained my dear-bought fame 

With the foul charge of treason — rebel ! traitor ! 

These were thy words, and thou art in my power ! 

Thou, who gav'st order to destroy my life ! 

Vengeance is mine, and thus — [Raises his sword to strike. 
(With altered tone, and throwing it on the ground.) 
Be free, and live ! 

And learn, that Waldimar, though thus denounced, 

Spurned and degraded by thee, is no traitor ! 

Now, bind on me your chains — to prison lead me ! 

Rack me with tortures, and to death condemn me ! 

I yield to fate, but unsubdued by man. 

\They close around him. — Curtain falls. 



EJVl) OF ACT FOURTH. 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 105 



ACT FIFTH. 



SCENE I.— A Prison. 

Waldimar discovered on a couch — half rises, and speaks to 
a Soldier on guard. 

Waldimar. 

No news yet of my daughter ? 

Soldier. 

None, my lord. 

Waldimar. 

Retire, I'd be alone — my child I ray child ! 
Ah ! what an agony of thought is there ! 
She may be lost for ever to these arms ! 
But yet I will hope on, for mid the gloom 
And desolation that surround me here, 
To think that way were madness ! 

\_Rises and comes forwai'd. 
Is Levinus come ? {To Soldier.) 

Soldier. 

Not yet, my lord. [Soldier retires. 

Waldimar. 

I would that he were here ! 
The contemplation of an hour like this 
Doth awe the soul, when passion's rage is gone, 
And make guilt shrink and startle at its shadow ! 
Is it that worm, remorseless, gnaws within me, 

14 



106 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

That thus my dreams are turned to scorpions, 
And horror's thickly crowding images, 
Are figured forth to blast me ? ay, 'tis so ! 
But away with thoughts Hke these ; repentance 
Is for the coward and the weak. Waldimar 
Shall die as he has lived, nor give his foes 
To triumph at his fall, nor leave behind 
A name for sneering scorn to point at ! 

Enter Levinus. 
Levinus, is it thou ? thou'rt welcome, sir. {Coolly.) 

Levinus. 

Waldimar ! methinks you do not bear yourself 
With friendly carriage tow'rd me, as you wont ; 
You're haughty, cold in your deportment, yet 
I've given no cause. 

Waldimar. 

Levinus, thou hast not — 
But I am fallen in my rank and state, 
And chains make not the courtier with proud minds. 

Levinus. 

Yet should they not thus sink the friend. I am 
More firmly thine than ever, and came here 
To proffer aught of service in my power 
To yield, in this extremity of fortune. 

Waldimar, 

I did ye wrong, my friend, pray, pardon me ; 

Levinus, I beheve thee such, and will 

Unbosom what weighs heavy on my mind. 

My life ebbs fast — some few hours hence, perchance, 

Will find no more of Waldimar but a name ; 

And his ambitious soarings and career 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 107 

In glorious war shall be for ever closed ! 
What the world says of me, I care not ; I 
Shall die consistent with myself, and leave 
Behind a name, which, if men call not good. 
Shall be at least a proud one ! But there is 
One thought doth make me womanish. 

Levinus. 

Thy daughter ! 

Waldimar. 

She is the fond and sole remaining tie 

That earth holds out to me — all other sense 

Of joy or pain is seared ; but there, each thought's 

A stab — my poor, my orphan child ! Forgive 

A tear, Levinus — I'm not wont to weep. 

Nor prone to weakness, as thou know'st ; but this. 

This unmans me. 

Levinus. 

I would stake my life 
Upon her safety ! 

Waldimar. 

But she has a father ! 

Levinus. 

Nay, should the worst befall thee, rest assured. 
Thy friend will be her guide, protector, father, 

Waldimar. 

Wilt thou ? and wilt, when sorrow clouds her brow, 
And the unbidden tear starts in her eye. 
Wilt soothe her gentle nature, as a father 
With sympathising fondness soothes his child ? 



108 WALDIMAR. [Act V, 

Levinus. 

I -vvill — I will, as though she were my own. 

Waldimar. 

And when the edge of grief has worn away, 
(As 'twill in time,) and life shines out again. 
In all its rainbow colouring to her eye, 
Say, wilt thou guide her inexperienced youth 
Amid the arts of this designing world ? 

Levinus. 

O doubt me not, confide in me — I will. 

Waldimar. 

Her dower will be right princely ; and there are 
Men, who would drain her treasures and her heart, 
And leave but dregs within her cup of life — 
O guard her against such ; but above all, 
Let her not meet the eye of Claudius ! 

Levinus. 

How 1 of Claudius ? 

Waldimar, 

Ay, of Claudius — 
He is my bane, the object of a hate 
Most deep and rancorous ! 

Levinus. 

Ha ! say'st thou so? 

Waldimar. 

I'd sooner see my only child paired with 
Some low and abject slave, with every crime 



Scene I.] WALDIMAR. 109 

And curse upon his head, than in the arms 

Of this detested Claudius. 

Levinus. 

Whence this hatred? 

WALDiaiAR. 

Would'st Uke the snake that thou hadst warmed to hfe, 

That clung with seeming fondness to thy bosom, 

' And wily, crept within thy confidence," 

Though nestling there it turned against and stung thee? 

« Through all thy life its deadly venom poured. 

And poisoned all the springs of joy within thee T 

Such, such to me has been this Claudius ! 

Levinus. 

Is't possible ? 

Waldimar. 

The very thought, Levinus, 
That he possess him of my power and office, 
And revel at the downfall of my fortunes. 
Doth gall me more than all the angry storms 
Of fate, that brood around me. 

Levinijs. 

But, my friend — 

Waldimar. 

Guard thou, Levinus, as thou lov'st me, guard 

Her ear from his soliciting ; impress 

Upon her mind her father's dying wish, 

And bid her shrink from tender of his love, 

As from the serpent ; for the poison to 

Her bosom's peace lurks there— a father's curse ! 

Tell thou her this, and urge it home to her ! 



110 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

Levinus. 

I do most solemnly declare I will. 

Waldimar. 

I am content — " but one word more — I must 

Bow to the sentence of offended law ; 

And it were torture, worse than death's worst pangs. 

To fall like a base felon, in the eye 

Of men, who stood with gaping look around 1 

Thou, thou hast influence ; exert it here — 

Let the axe strike in private when it falls. 

And let your friend meet not the rebel's fate, 

But die, as he has lived, the soldier ! 

Levinus. 

It shall be so — I pledge my word. 

Waldimar. 

Enough — " 

Enter Malchus, with Guards. 

Malchus. 

My lord, we've orders to conduct you hence 

To our great monarch, who now sits in judgment. 

Waldimar. 

Well, lead on ! we'll follow— [Guards hesitate. 

Lead on, I say ! 
{Sternly — then recollecting himself.) 
I had forgot I was your prisoner. 

\_Exeunt. 



Scene II. J WALDIMAR. Ill 



SCENE 11. 

Hall of State — Senators seated — Officers, Citizens, <^c. dis- 
covered in attendance — Enter Theodosius in state, and 
Levinus — all rise — appropriate ceremonial — Theodosius 
ascends the throne. 

Theodosius. 

Most noble Senators and citizens, 

We do salute you with a monarch's love ; 

And sympathizing in the general wo, 

Have come to show you justice in this cause, 

Wherein you've laboured under grievous wrongs ; 

Which to redress, and heal your bleeding wounds, 

Shall be the first care of our love. Thou, Malchus, 

Lead in the prisoner. 

\_Exit Malchus — and re-enters with Waldimar, 
guarded and hound. 

Levinus. 

Waldimar, it were well [^Aside. 

That you throw off that sullen, stern demeanour. 
And air of stateliness, that ill becomes 
The accused, in presence of the Emperor. 

Waldimar. 

This brow was taught in wars to frown, Levinus, 
And knows not to unbend at bidding — I {Aloud.) 
Came here to know my sentence, not to learn 
How to demean myself. 

Theodosius. 

Unhappy man ! 
Thou cam'st here to display unto the world. 
How lawless passions sink the noble mind, 



112 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

And ruin the fair fabric of a fame, 

That shone so proudly in thy country's annals ! 

How art thou fallen now ! all loyalty 

And duty thrown aside, thou'st spurned thy king, 

And hast in arms rebelled against his power ; 

Thou'st trampled down the rights of these our citizens, 

While they have groaned beneath thy scourging hand ; 

And when a few spurred on the infuriate mob 

To acts of outrage, thou didst seize the torch 

Of fierce revenge, and spread its fires around. 

Felling alike the guiltless and the guilty ; 

And thus defying both our laws and majesty. 

Speak ! what hast thou to plead in thy defence ? 

Waldimar. 

Nothing, my lord, to mitigate my doom, 

For I am reckless of my destiny — 

Yet were I linked to things of time, and did 

My heart still hold communion with them as 

It wont, and were I graced and strong in speech, 

I could peal thunders in thy royal ear. 

To drown the cries of justice ; thou would'st not 

Sit proudly thus on thine imperial throne. 

To judge a soldier, who had shed his blood. 

To crown thine empire and thy name with glory ; 

Nor would these citizens stand here, perchance, 

Nor these right noble Senators around me, (Sneeringly.) 

Like vultures, greedy for their destined prey. 

But for this arm, which gave them life and rights. 

And fought thy way to triumph and to greatness 1 

Theodosius. 

" We do acknowledge, Waldimar, thy services, 
And have repaid them with our royal favour, 
Which thou hast with outrageous acts abused. 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 113 

WaIiDIMAR. 

Well, let that pass — they're cancelled, as thou say'st — 

I will not add how cheaply ! — I'm content — 

What wrongs I've done — what crimes I stand accused of, 

I seek not to extenuate ; they are 

Alike before thy judgment seat, and that 

Of yon high heaven ! — I am prepared to suffer, 

And look on death with philosophic eye. 

And with a soul ihat shrinks not." 

[Theodosius 7-ising to pass sentence. 
One word more — 
When these last acts of my eventful life 
Are told unto my country, let it not 
Be blotted out from record, how, urged on 
By taunts that goad, and angry threats, that swell 
The bosom of insulted honour, e'en 
To bursting ! and how, roused still more to hate. 
By the dire, mad'ning sight of those I honoured. 
And whom my bosom clung to, writhing, mangled ; 
And with their gory locks, that clotted hung 
Around their ghastly brows ; and with those eyes, 
That death and agony made eloquent. 
Shrieking, " revenge ! revenge !" let it be told, 
Thus urged, thus roused to fury, I stood forth 
Their proud avenger ! prouder of that name. 
Than if I had trod down the stubborn necks 
Of the dark Scythians ! O, the cause was great ! 
'Twas glorious! 

Theodosius. 

It grieves us, but we must 
Bend to what justice, and the safety of 
The state alike demand — here, here behold \_Shuwing scroll. 
The citizens' memorial, that craves 

15 



114 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

Thy life, and those most savage wrongs sets forth, 
Which for thy blood with angry vengeance call ! 

Waldimar. 

I ask no mercy at thy hands ; I am 
Prepared to meet the worst — my sentence ! 



Death ! 



Theodosius, (Rising.) 

" But by our royal clemency, thou shalt 
Bow to the axe without the forms of law ; 
Thine execution shall be private." 

Waldimar. 

'Tis well ! {With firmness.) 

Hersilia, without, exclaims, 
Lead me, O lead me instant to my father ! 

Waldimar. 

My child ! 

Hersilia. 

My father ! \^She rushes into his arms. 

Waldimar. 

Be strong, my heart, thou'st need of firmness now ! (Aside.) 

Claudius, (kneeling at the throne.) 

Great Theodosius ! grant my suit, I pray thee — 
Recall this sentence, if thou hold'st at aught 
The love and services I've shown thee long ; 
And let my only recompense be in 
The pardon of my fellow soldier here. 

Theodosius. 

It is in vain. 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 115 

Claudius. 

Ye noble Senators, 
And citizens, who hear me ; me, to whom 
You owe your wives, a parent or a child 
Whom at the hazard of my life I saved. 
Plead with me all, and let not this brave man, 
" Whose crime was passion, (and we're all its slaves 
At times,") be cut off in his pride of years ! 
He is a father, and his death will leave 
An orphan, with her tears her only portion. 

Theodosius ! let him not die thus ! 
They are appeased — all, all unite with me. 

[Hersilia, recovering, and catching the 
sounds of the close of the speech. 

Hersilia. 

What is't ye say of death ? my father ! ah ! 

[Looking earnestly at him. 
It flashes on my brain — thou art to die ! 
Nay, turn not from me thus — in pity, tell me 
The horrible truth at once, nor torture me 
With agony of doubts like these ! O speak ! 
My father, speak to me ! 

Waldimar, {with averted face.) 
My child ! 

Hersilia. 

1 read it in your looks, and on the brow 
Of all around me. Have I lived to this ? 
For this returned in safety to your arms? 

[Leaves her father, and throivs herself at the 
feet of the Etnperor. 
O mighty prince ! on me, on me let fall 
The terrors of your vengeance ! he is guiltless 



116 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

Of wrong or treachery to thee — he would 

Have shed his heart-blood to have saved your life — 

You cannot bid him die ! Ye Senators, 

If ye have nobleness of spirit in ye, 

If ye have mercy in your bosoms, hear me ! 

Rise up and plead with me — suspend the stroke, 

And save ! O save the father and his child ! 

Theodosius, (looking inquiringly at Senators.) 
I read your full assent — then be it so ! 

Waldimak, 

Stay, Theodosius, stay ! I charge you, pause ! 

I hold not life on these degrading terms ! 

Think you, I would receive that wretched boon, 

And breathe the tainted air, which these vile Senators 

In pity had dealt out to me ! Theodosius ! 

I spurn the offer, as I do despise 

The source from whence it comes ! 

Hersilia. 

He raves ! he raves ! 
In mercy, hear him not ! 

Theodosius. 

I would have silence — 
He shall be exiled from our empire's bounds ; 
His rank and honours shall descend to Claudius, 
With all his fortunes, as a dowry with 
His daughter, whom we do decree his bride. 

Waldimar. 

Heard I aright ? the bride of Claudius ! 
My rank, estates, my daughter, all to him ! 
And'do I hve to hear these hated sounds? 

Theodosius ! stab this heart at once ! 

1 could brave dungeons, tortures, death ! av, did 



Scene II.] WALDIMAR. 117 

The angry heavens rain down each plague on me. 

And their avenging fires scorch my brain, 

Unto the very verge of madness ! all 

This I could bear — but to drag on a life, 

An exile and degraded, and behold 

The man I have such cause to hate, propped up 

Upon my fallen fortunes, and my child, 

My child torn — O misery ! torn from me, 

And clinging round that form ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

[yVildly, and pointing Lo Claudius. 

Theodosius. 

Thou ravest, Waldimar. 

Waldimar. 

No, no, Fm calm — quite calm — O Theodosius ! 
Lo ! I kneel, bow down to thee, and kiss 
The dust— the very dust beneath thy feet. 
Like some base outcast, or foul abject thing ! 
Recall this cruel sentence, give me up 
To death, and save me from this fate accurst ! 

Theodosius. 

It may not be — we leave thee here awhile, 
To bid thy child farewell. 

\^Exeunt Theodosius, Levinus, Senators, cj-c. 

Manent Waldimar, Hersilia, Claudius, Malchus, and 
Guards. 

Waldimar. 

Then, by the blood 
That boils within ihese veins, I'll do some deed 
Shall level to the dust his tower of pride, 
And crush to atoms all ! — 'Tis brooding here ! 

[Striking his breast. 



118 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

Hersilia. 

Ah I my father, look not fiercely thus ! 

Waldimar. 

Girl, thou art not thy father's child ; he doth 
Disown thee — ay, the blood within thy veins 
Is tainted — yon vile paramour ! away ! 

[^Pointing to Claudius, ivho stands back. 

Hersilia. 

What means that angry look, that tone ? alas ! 
Hersilia's love has not deserved this from thee. 

Waldimar. 

I'd not be harsh to thee — I meant it not — 
My child, in thee I had bound up my hopes. 
And centered all my joy, and pride, and fondness — 
I had thought, that when all else was faded. 
And this heart was sunk, almost to breaking. 
Thou would'st be left to cheer declining age, 
And gild ev'n ruin, with the smile of love ! 

Hersilia. 

And say, my father, shall it not be so ? 
You little know your fond Hersilia's heart ! 

Waldimar. 

No, no, they'd tear me from thee — a father 

From his child ! — monsters ! they'd make me desolate 

Amid life's wilderness ! they will not stab — 

That were too merciful ! they'd burst asunder 

The ties of blood, that bind heart in with heart. 

And call it justice — ay, they'd tear thee from me ! 

Hersilia. 

" Who'll part my father from these arms, and tear 
One, whom I love thus from me ? 



Scene II.J WALDIMAR. 119 

Waldimar. 

Alas ! my girl ! 
It may not be, for I am doomed to pine, 
An exile from my country, far away 
From all I hold most dear. Nor trump of battle, 
Nor yet the sound of fame, at which my heart 
Was wont to beat full proudly, and what still, 
Still dearer than them all, thy voice, my child, 
Shall never reach me more ! And, now, alone 
Remains to part with thee — my child ! my child ! 

[^Embraces her. 
One struggle, and 'tis past !" 

Hersilia. 

O why, why talk 
Of parting, thus to agonize your child ? 
Thou lov'st me not, or wouldst not so discard 
Me from your bosom ! 

Waldimar. 

How ! not love thee, girl I 
Witness these eyes, that strive in agony 
To weep, but cannot ; and this brain on fire ! 
My soul, that writhes with anguish — my heart-pulse 
That beats, as if 'twere bursting, witness how 
I love my child ! — and, now, we part ! we part ! 

Hersilia. 

What utter wretchedness is in these words ! 
O talk not so, you plunge me in despair ! 

Waldimar. 

Hersilia ! " sink not thus — 'tis in thy power 
To smooth the rugged path that fate ordains me, 
And make thy father to recall thy name 
With fondness, nay, idolatry ;" discard 



120 WALDIMAR. [Act V. 

Yon viper {Pointing to Claudius.) 

From your bosom ! swear, I charge thee, 
" Swear by the power that rules our destinies," 
Thou wilt not listen to his voice again, 
Nor see him from this hour ! 

Hersilia. 

My father! ah! 

[Shrinking from him. 

Waldimar. 

Swear it, Hersilia, or I never can 
Again know peace — thou'lt doom thy father to 
Long years of wretchedness, and turn thy name. 
Now crowned with blessings, to a curse upon 
These lips — nay, swear it ! 

Hersilia. 

Oh ! in mercy strike, 
Strike, I beseech thee, to my heart at once, 
Nor rend it thus, with words so terrible ! 

[As she is sinking, Claudius rushes forward to 
support her. 

Claudius. 

She shall not charge her soul with such an oath ! 

Waldimar. 

Ha 1 {Strongly.) 

Claudius. 

She is bound by every solemn vow 
To love me, and, nought valuing other ties, 
To cling to me in sorrow and in joy, 
Making these arms her paradise. 



.Scone il.] WALDIMAR. 121 

Waldimar. 

Hersilia ! (Fiercely.) 
Wilt swear, or wilt not 1 

Hersilia. 

Alas 1 my father 1 

Waldimar. 

Hersilia, answer me — my blood is roused — 
My spirit's chafed beyond control — my pulse, 
My pulse beats high — my brain is hot — 
Away from him, nor tempt me thus ! that arm — 
That arm I unloose thee from its hold, and swear ! 

Claudius. 

Name not the oath, forbear, stern, cruel man ! 
Her very soul abhors the theme accurst — 
See how she sinks beneath thy vengeful look ! 

Waldimar. 

By all my great revenge, if thou dost not 
Let go thy hold upon her ! — 

Claudius. 

By what right 
Wouldst thou control a husband's privilege ? 

Waldimar. 

Husband ! 

Claudius. 

Ay, husband, and thy chief ! the law 
Doth now proclaim me such, and I'll maintain 
The high prerogatives. Guards, do your duty. 

[He motions to Malchus and Gvxuds — as they advance, 
Waldimar furiously seizes the sword o/ Malchus. 
16 



122 WALDIMAR. [ActV. 

Waldimar. 

Back there ! — traitors ! ye come in conflict with 

A dangerous man, one wrecked in hopes and fortunes — 

Wronged and insulted — in despair and maddened ! 

[They fall bach. 
Husband ! ha ! — there, she cHngs to him — confusion ! 
Furies ! brain, O brain ! (Wildly.) 

Ha ! Theodosius, 
Thou hast done this — oh ! tortures, death, and shame ! 
Tyrant, thy throne is mine — revenge ! I come ! 
The battle rages ! on ! — they fly ! they fly ! — 
Thy crown is fallen, and thy banner lies 
Low in the dust — thy garments red with blood — 
And thou, ghastly in death beside me ! — now 
I triumph ! — Shout, shout for victory ! — ha ! 
Again they rally — sound, to the charge ! what, ho ! 
Strike for revenge ! revenge ! ha ! ha ! ha ! 

[-He rushes wildly with brandished sword on Claudius 
and Hersilia — Guards interpose with their spears. 
How ! baflled thus ! 

\_Dashes with fury on their spears, and falls — Hersilia 
screams wildly, and rushes to him. 

Hersilia. 

My father ! O my father ! 

Waldimar. 

My strength is failing fast, and with it gone 

The storm of rage within me. — I have been 

Most cruel and unnatural to thee, child — 

And yet I loved thee. O that I could live, 

To make, and see thee happy ! — 'tis too late — 

That pang again ! it racks my trembling joints — 

And now — the cold, cold hand of death is on me, 

And all — all grows dark ! my child ! my child! oh ! [Dies. 

Curtain Falls. 



EPILOGUE. 

WRITTEN BY THEODORE S. FAY, ESQ., . 

AND SPOKEN BY MRS. SHARPE. 



It must be done — the man's heart will be broken, 
Unless some sort of Epilogue be spoken — 
Besides, the house expect it always. Don't you ? 
I'm sure you'll let me try one for him. Won't you ? 
Only a word to help along the play. 
(The Author's almost scared to death, they say.) 

As some young rose, just springing in the vale, 
Curled in its bud, dares scarcely scent the gale, 
Should chilling winds, and threat'ning clouds arise. 
It droops its leaves, and prematurely dies ; 
But, let the Sun awake each timid charm — 
Cheer it with smiles, with melting kisses warm. 
Grateful it blooms, preserved from early death. 
And pays the heavens with its ambrosial breath. 
And so the Author, trembling, first appears, 
Nurses one hope amid a thousand fears. 
Shrinks, lest he mark some awful symptom lower : 
(A sensitive plant, — your literary flower!) 
This in his sky, and mine the task to find, 
Must he be withered by the wintry wind ? 
Will he meet stormy weather here, I wonder ? 
Didn't you think you heard a clap of thunder ? 
You wicked critics — ranged around, that sit 
With your stop-watches, yonder in the pit — 
17 



124 EPILOGUE. 

Whose dreams are haunted, (for your faces show it,) 
With the dim ghosts of many a murdered poet — 
Shall I our Author's thronging doubts allay ? 
Is he successful? — Do you hke the play? 
Will ye be civil ? Will ye take his hand, 
And cheer his way o'er Fancy's fairy land? 
Will you go home, and> by your midnight tapers. 
Do the genteel thing for him, in the papers ? 
Or strive, like Shylock, tho' in style politer — 
To " cut the forfeit from a bankrupt" — writer ? 
If, bent on murder, ye have roused your souls. 
Haste all to Europe, and assist the Poles ; 
They'll make ye welcome for your country's sake. 
Where, first,, they saw great Liberty awake, 
And smile on man. Besides, ye need not fear, 
That any one will ever miss ye here. 
In freedom's sacred cause, 'twill be more praise^ 
To kill one tyrant — than a hundred plays. 
To you I turn — the Apollos and the Graces, 
And read indulgence in your smiling faces. 
None here the generous tribute will refuse^ 
Wooed by a native Author's early muse ; 
Anxious he waits, as one who, from a steep, 
Watches his vessel launched upon the deep ; 
With you it rests, th' adventurous bark to save — 
Let not his hard-won treasure feed the wave ; 
Bid the blue sea with summer calmness flow. 
And prosperous breezes swell his sails of snow ; 
Let him but once your bounteous favours share,, 
And then — ye critics ! — touch him if ye dare ! 



0:^ In addition to those speeches enclosed in inverted commas, 
the second Scene, and part of the third Scene, from the beginning 
to page twenty-first, sixth line, of the First Act, and the entire 
second Scene of Act Fourth, may be omitted in representation. 



ERRATA, 



Page 33, line I6th— strike out " with." 

Paga 42, line 26th — for " ne'er a hermit," read " not the hermit. 

Page 87, line 4th — for " designed," read "devised." 



As the reader might feel an interest in knowing how this 
Tragedy was received at the time of its first representa- 
tion, the following extracts from the various articles that 
appeared in the Journals of the day are annexed. 



The scene lies at Thessalonica, in Macedonia, in the time of 
Theodosius the Great. Waldimar, the leading character, and who 
gives name to the piece, is a distinguished General under the Roman 
Emperor, and Governor of Macedonia. He is represented as a 
stern and vindictive character, whose galling and oppressive admi- 
nistration rouses the people to occasional acts of violence. In one 
of these reciprocations of hostilities between the harrassed citizens 
and the soldiery of Waldimar, the latter beards the Senate, and, 
setting both their dignity and the laws at defiance, orders a gene- 
ral massacre of the inhabitants. The massacre, we believe, is 
a historical fact ; but neither the characters nor the plot are so. 
In the incidents arising from this tyrannical measure lies the action 
of the piece. Waldimar has a daughter called Hersilia, of whom 
he is dotingly fond ; and she is also beloved by Claudius, a gallant 
young soldier, who, though in the ranks of the Governor, is a great 
favourite with the people, and is devoted to their cause. The strug- 
gles of duty and passion in the breasts of these two, and their in- 
terviews with Waldimar, give rise to some fine and touching scenes. 
The other characters that are worthy of mention are Rufus, an 
honest caustic old soldier, and Martian, a Roman charioteer, a gay, 
reckless villain, strikingly contrasted with the sober Rufus, and 
the tender, though spirited Claudius. None of these characters, 
however, are thrown out so strongly as to break the effect pro- 
duced by that of Waldimar, for whom the author has very judi- 
ciously reserved his greatest powers, and on whom he has spent 
his greatest labour. The scenes with his gentle and affectionate 
daughter, where the despotic and haughty veteran gives way to the 
doting father, his moody and disturbed soliloquies, his ill-suppres- 
sed arrogance and impatience, while trying to wile the true-hearted 
young Claudius into his odious measures, and lastly, his undaunted 
valour and noble bearing, when deserted by his friends and beset 
with foes, are equally poetical and dramatic in their conception, 
and must prove highly effective off the stage. We arc glad to 



see a native legitimate tragedy and a really scholar-like produc- 
tion, brought out on the New-York boards under such auspices. 

American. 

So says our cotemporary, whose good taste is admitted, and it 
entirely accords with our own opinion. The story is one of deep 
interest, and well wrought out ; and the blank verse is correct, 
flowing, and not monotonous. Commercial. 

This Tragedy is an important addition to the permanent stock of 
dramatic literature. 

The story is interesting, and fixes the attention, without being 
too intricate, or being overloaded with under-plots. And although 
founded upon a remarkable historical incident, it has been so 
varied to suit the objects of the author, as to have the claim of 
novelty. And if the Theodosius of the drama, in the occurences at 
Thessalonica, appears in a far more amiable light than the Theo. 
dosius of history, the liberty is one, which is sanctioned by some 
of the highest names in literature. 

The unities are well preserved, and the characters drawn and 
supported with much vigour. The hero, Waldimar, in the energy 
of his passions, in his open contempt of all principle, and in his 
desperate exertions, presents a spectacle which, if rarely seen in 
actual life, may still find prototypes in those visible creations, 
which genius has so often embodied. In the strength of his attach- 
ment to his daughter, and in the magnanimity of his conduct, when 
the Emperor is in his power, he displays redeeming traits of cha- 
racter. The denoue?nent is sufficiently tragic and just, to be in 
keeping with the events ; and yet leaves an agreeable impression 
upon the reader, in consequence of the preservation of the two 
persons, in whose fate he feels the greatest interest. 

Lewis Cass. 

This Tragedy has great merit. The conceptions are vigorous, 
and the characters well brought out, and with an individuality, 
which shows the hand of a skilful dramatist. The language, too, 
is plain, unafiected, flowing, and graceful ; and must have told 
powerfully in the representation. 

John Howard Payne. 

We are satisfied of its perfect adaptation to the stage, and of the 
strength as well as of the beauty ofjthe language. Waldimar, the 
hero of the piece, is a powerfully drawn, and original charac- 
ter. Some of the scenes in which his feelings as a father and a war- 
rior are brought in conflict, are susceptible of producing a thrilling 
effect. In the hands of Mr. C. Kean, this character cannot but be suc- 
cessful. There is a feeling of the tender and pathetic, in the act- 



ing of this young tragedian, which will find ample scope for ex- 
hibition in the scenes with the daughter, Hersilia ; nor will he be at 
a loss for an opportunity to display his power, in the delineation of 
passion, in the scenes witli Claudius. The latter character is well 
conceived, and is one of prominent interest. 

The author of Waldimar has not, with many modern writers, 
exhausted his strength on the leading characters. In this he is 
sustained by the improving taste of the day. His play is intended 
for the closet as well as for the stage. In this light we hail the 
production as the more creditable to cur rising literature, and as 
the more deserving of our decided approbation. Our stage has 
often witnessed the favourable reception of foreign dramas of 
doubtful superiority — let not our taste, and our national feeling also, 
be libelled, by the exhibition of apathy towards an American Tra- 
gedy which possesses such high claims to our admiration. 

Ainerican Advocate. 

We have, as before mentioned, read this Tragedy, and have been 
so much pleased with it, that our hopes of its entire success are 
very sanguine. Waldimar, the hero, is a strongly drawn cha- 
racter, — several of the situations, in which the art of the Dramatist 
has placed him, give scope for feeling and action. Hersilia, the 
heroine, has also some fine scenes ; indeed, the interest is not confined 
to one character alone, but is divided among four or five. 

Mercantile. 

Fewer in number, but equally unsuccessful with European as- 
pirants, have been the attempts made in this country to produce a 
good Tragedy. The like causes have led to the same results, and 
the progress of improvement in dramatic literature is far behind 
the advance which America has made in the other walks of polite 
letters. The author of Waldimar has shown himself to be aware of 
the difficulties encountered by preceding writers, in the necessity 
they have felt themselves under, of fashioning their creations to suit 
the capricious notions of particular actors. He has shown a confi- 
dence in his own powers — a confidence which deserves to be 
commended — in confining himself to the acknowledged unities of 
the drama. He has strengthened his characters, and wrought up 
the interest of his scenes, with an especial reference to the proper 
denouement of his plot. 

Our synopsis of this play must be brief. Waldimar, the princi- 
pal character, or hero of the piece, is a distinguished general under 
Thedosius the Great, and during the action of the play is Governor 
of Macedonia. The stern vindictiveness of his character, the dis- 
position to tyrannize over and oppress the subjects of his sovereign, 
had rendered his administration unpopular with the people. He 



is supported by his soldiers against the citizens — disavows and con- 
temns the authority of the Senate — and proceeds to the extremity of 
ordering a slaughter of the inhabitants. The character of Waldu 
mar, throughout these exciting scenes, is strongly drawn, and the 
interest admirably sustained. He is opposed in his mad career by 
Claudms, a brave and popular soldier. This character is like- 
wise exceedingly well delineated. The latter personage is a suitor 
of Hersilia, the daughter of Waldimar. The under-plot, connect- 
ed with the story of their loves, is well maintained, and is skilfully 
interwoven with the principal action of the drama. There is a 
rough old soldier of the Clytus school, called Rufus, and "a gay 
bold-faced villain," by the name of Martian, both having intimate 
connexion with the progress of the plot, and both strongly marked 
characters. To each of the personages named, the author has 
awarded a full share in the business of the play, but in the charac- 
ters of Waldimar and Hersilia, he has shown his greatest power. 
Several of the scenes between the father and daughter are wrought 
up to a pitch of surpassing interest. In short, the peculiar charac- 
teristics of this Tragedy are, a plot where natural events are 
allowed to occur in a natural way — a succession of interesting 
incidents, all tending directly and progressively to the denouement — 
and the whole told in unaffected language, occasionally exhibiting 
fine bursts of poetry. 

The play of Waldimar has not been written solely with a view 
to effect on the stage. The author has prepared himself to enter 
the lists with those who write to be read. He may well felicitate 
himself upon tlie production, which will give him an enviable rank 
among American writei-s. — Albion. 

Last evening the Park Theatre was crowded, to witness the first 
representation of Waldimar. We will not now enter into a critique 
of the play, but shall wait to see it performed again, before passing 
a final verdict — yet we must repeat, that the audience were una- 
nimous in favour of Waldimar. — Mercantile Advertiser. 

Waldimar, the new Tragedy, produced at the Park Theatre 
last night, was completely successful, and received with marks 
of favour throughout. The characters are all well and distinctly 
drawn. The description Martian gives of the pleasures and 
" glories " of the chariot races, and the athletic sports to which 
he is so enthusiastically attached, is glowing, graphic, and 
effective. 

Waldimar, who is the hero of the piece, and the chefd^csuvre of 
the author, makes use of much better language than any of his 
compeers. Great attraction centres in this character. The author 
has given it prominence, spirit and effective situations. The tableau 



presented when Martian, whom he supposed dead, enters, was im- 
posing and beautiful. The house dwelt upon it with long and re- 
iterated applause. — Standard. 

This new tragedy was perfectly suscessful last evening ; it went 
off with the round approbation of a crowed house, and its an- 
nouncement for Thursday was received with plaudits and bravos 
from all sides. The whole piece made a highly favourable im- 
pression. — A?nerican. 

The public have already pronounced judgment upon the Tra- 
gedy, which was, indeed, completely successful ; and, if dependence 
may be placed upon the prompt and continued plaudits of a large 
and intelligent company, the general admiration of the daily press, 
and several testimonials from eminent literary individuals, it pos- 
sesses merits of no common order. The language is chaste, yet 
melodious and declamatory. Whatever may be the difference of 
opinion respecting the rank of this Tragedy, among similar native 
productions, all unite in awarding great praise to the author, for 
the elegance of the language, the dramatic management of several 
parts of the dialogue, and the really strong effect of the story upon 
the audience. — Mirror. 

" Waldimar.''^ — This new tragedy has ex'cited great interest 
among the literati of the day, and been crowned with a success 
that must be as gratifying to the author as it is honourable to the 
country. It has drawn forth a display of talent on the part of 
Mr. Charles Kean, that has added greatly to his former well-merit- 
ed reputation, and proved by his admirable conceptions, chaste 
performance, and beautiful readings of the part he sustains, that 
he possesses a genius of a highly original cast, and powers as a 
tragedian of the very first order — his attitudes were peculiarly 
beautiful, and both classical and true to nature. — Albion. 

This effort of native genius was played last evening for the 
second time, with much applause, and it may therefore be now 
pronounced to be a successful play. 

For ourselves, we can truly say, we were much interested. The 
dialogue and the incident were both in the tragic vein. The cha- 
racters of Waldimar and of Hersilia are calculated to create great 
interest, and they were both well sustained. We have neither 
time nor information (not having read it) to give it the examination 
we could wish. The prologue we were not so fortunate as to 
hear; the epilogue was spirited, appropriate, and well spoken. 
To sum up our views on this production, and its performance, we 
have little doubt it will be a favourite with the public. 

American Advocate. 



6 

Its success on the two previous nights of its presentation will, no 
doubt, procure a full and fashionable house ; we should hope so, at 
least. The tragic muse has been often courted of late, but has 
been seldom successfully won, particularly in this country. In- 
deed, to produce in this exalted walk of literature a popular drama, 
is no easy task, when Ave consider that the selection of a subject of 
suitable dignity, the support of an interesting dialogue, well sus- 
tained by appropiate " dramatis personce, " all of exremely difficult 
attainment, will not insure public approbation. The success of a 
Tragedy possessing all the previous requisites must depend upon 
pathetic incident, well adapted to a proper stage eifect. 

That all this should have been well achieved by a young gen- 
tleman, not professionally engaged in literary pursuits, while it 
gives strong evidence of native genius, cannot fail to impress every 
one with thoughts of the study, the care, and the anxieties, to 
which it must have given rise. It is from these considerations we 
repeat the hope, that a liberal public will not withhold their coun- 
tenance and support to American talent. — American Advocate. 

Since its first representation, the piece has been materially im- 
proved — the actors have mastered the language, and are prepared 
to do it justice — those parts which were hitherto too diffuse have 
been curtailed and condensed — the plot is more compact and con- 
secutive — so that, with the very clever acting of Mr. Kean, the 
Tragedy, as a whole, presents strong attractions, and merits of a 
high order. — Standard. 

We certamly never witnessed more complete success than that 
which attended the third performance of tliis Tragedy, last evening, 
at the Park Theatre, to a numerous and highly respectable au- 
dience. It gains upon the public at every succeeding representa- 
tion, as we honestly confess it does also with ourselves. The 
author has reason to feel proud of his production. To us, also, 
it is a scource of great delight, thus to record another instance 
of triumph to an American manufacture of so high an order. 

Ainerican Advocate. 



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